


Violets

by JulietsEmoPhase



Series: Dralentine's Day 2015 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Harry, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Break Up, Eventual Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Light Bondage, M/M, Making Up, Romance, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4187979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulietsEmoPhase/pseuds/JulietsEmoPhase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several months after Harry and Draco found themselves stranded in the Scottish Highlands, their relationship is under increasing strain to come out in the open. Harry isn't sure if they're going to make it, or if the pressure is going to push them over the edge. </p><p>Sequel to 'Roses'. Post-Hogwarts, non-epilogue compliant. Smut.  Part 2 of 2 of the Dralentine's Day Series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Violets

**Author's Note:**

> Almost immediately after I’d finished my entry for Dralentine’s Day 2015, “Roses”, I realised that there was still more to the story that I wanted to tell. I asked the lovely Sara (@ourloveislegendrarry) how she would feel about hosting a sequel, and she wholeheartedly agreed.
> 
> I found this very tricky to write in places for various reasons, and during that time Sara was super supportive and I want to thank her with a big hug for that. Without her help and patience I’m not sure this would ever have been finished! I also want to thank her for all the hard work she’s put into Dralentine’s so far; I have a feeling that she’ll have her work cut out for her next year with so many people wanting to get involved! Sweetheart, this one’s for you xxx
> 
> I’d like to dedicate this story once more to Leia (@diydrarry). Leia was the clever person who pulled me down the Drarry hole back at the start of the year, and I’ve not looked back since. I’ve made so many friends and been a part of so much creativity, it’s been utterly fabulous. So to have my original gift go to her was a huge honour, and it seems only right to dedicate the sequel to her and Sara equally. 
> 
> This is my longest story in the Drarry-Verse so far, especially if you combine the two works together, so I’m especially eager to hear what you think. It’s also a lot less fluffy than all my others, so I hope you still enjoy it.
> 
> Finally, this fic was heavily influenced by two songs: “I Know You” by Skylar Grey for the first half, and “Style” by Taylor Swift for the second. I strongly recommend you give them a listen. 
> 
> Okay, that’s it from me! Big hugs xJx

Violets

 

   Without a doubt, Harry’s favourite time of the week was Sunday mornings. After the pressure to get through five days at work, then the inevitable blow out of Friday and Saturday nights, Sunday morning was when the world didn’t expect anything of him. When he could just lounge around in bed with endless cups of tea, maybe listen to some music as he flicked through the papers, finding his calm again as he prepared to start the week’s routine over.

   And lately, he’d not been the only one in the bed.  

   “Are you finished with the Quidditch pages yet?” Draco asked as he nuzzled into the side of Harry’s arm.

   Harry swatted him playfully on the head with the newspaper. “No,” he said, opening it back up with a smirk. “And don’t you go trying to steal them off me, I’ve been wanting to read about Ginny’s game against Puddlemere since yesterday.”

   Draco was quiet for a while, snuggled up on Harry’s hip under his arm, playing with the toggle on his pyjama bottoms. His breath was soft on Harry’s bare torso, his fine white blond hair tickling his abdominals. Harry thought maybe he was dozing off, but then he should have remembered that Malfoy didn’t do well with being ignored.

   Harry only raised an eyebrow down at his man as his hand started trailing up and down the inside of his leg, but Draco didn’t look up at him. He just carried on as if nothing was amiss, so Harry did likewise and tried to read the match write-up. It was a little difficult though, and he found his eyes roaming over the same sentence three times.

   He could feel Draco smile against his belly as he shifted his body weight under the duvet, hand creeping up towards his crotch as he began to touch light little kisses on the skin just above his waistband.

   Harry felt his eyes fluttering closed. “Oh you’re a bastard,” he breathed. Draco just looked up at him with a wicked grin, before diving under the cover, throwing it up over Harry’s chest.

   “Draco,” he half protested, but he really didn’t mean it as he felt his lover’s hand begin to massage his cock through the soft cotton of his PJs. He let out a moan and tried to drop the Sunday Prophet to the floor, but instead succeeded in scattering several pages across the wooden boards.

   In truth he was thrilled. It wasn’t often Draco took the initiative in the bedroom like this, and Harry found himself slipping down his pillows as Draco pinged his pyjamas over his cock, and wrapped his hot mouth over it.

   Harry let out a gasp and grinned, biting his lip as he snaked his hand under the duvet to run his fingers through Draco silky fine hair. “Hm baby,” he breathed, shutting his eyes and feeling awash with sensation.

   It had been a little over six months since they had been trapped alone in the Scottish Highlands, and still Harry marvelled at this beautiful man he’d managed to ensnare into his bed, into his heart. How could it be that out of everyone, it was Draco Malfoy that had been the only person he’d ever allowed himself to grow close to, that he’d entwined his life with?

   He’d often thought of the look on his younger self’s face if he were to ever travel back in time and tell him.

   Draco was picking up pace and Harry gasped. “Yes,” he murmured. “Oh yes, like that.”

   Harry had been delighted to teach him all he knew about being with another man. He’d never had sex with a woman, but he didn’t have to to know the mechanics of it all were more than a little different. He could tell Draco was mimicking him now though, copying the way he pleasured him, wanting to make him feel the same way. Harry liked being the dominant one in the bedroom, but he couldn’t deny it was nice to be surprised, to lie back and think of England for once.

   If only…

   “Harry mate! You home!”

   The two men jumped so violently Harry swore his cock had been snapped in two. He cried out as Draco came flying back out from under the covers, wiping his mouth, looking utterly horrified.   “What the _hell_ is Weasley doing here?” he hissed, panicking.

   Harry coughed and tried to swallow, but his body was spasming at being so close to coming and then having it shocked away in an instant.

   “Harry?”

   He thought for an awful moment Ron was going to open the door.

   “Hang on mate!” he called back, voice thick with arousal and horse from the ensuing disbelief at being interrupted mid blow-job. _“Fuck!”_ he snarled as he remembered, turning to Draco who was still waiting anxiously in front of him for an explanation. “I said I’d help him go shopping for Hermione’s birthday present, he wasn’t supposed to be here until midday.”

   “It _is_ midday,” Draco shot back, pissed off as Harry kicked out of his pyjamas, willing his erection to go back down. “Why didn’t you tell me, you know he can’t see me?”

   Harry couldn’t quite ignore the familiar sting as Draco began scrabbling around for his t-shirt, moving to stand in the corner of the room beside the wardrobe, hiding his presence if Ron were to just poke his head in.

   “I’m sorry,” Harry said miserably, yanking clean boxers on and forcing his cock into the first pair of jeans he found lying around on the floor. “Look we’ll go, you can hang out here and I’ll be back in no time, he’ll never suspect a thing.” He snatched a jumper from one of the drawers and dashed over to where Draco was standing, arms folded protectively over his chest. He cupped his jaw with his hand and tried to placate him with kisses.

   “Okay,” Draco sighed, reciprocating the motion. “Sorry, I just freaked out. I’ll watch DVDs or something, just warn me if you bring him back home again.”

   Harry gave him a long hard kiss, filled with promises of picking up where they’d left off. “Just keep your wand away from the TV,” he said playfully, ruffling his hair. “I don’t want to have to buy a new one. Again.”

   Draco pushed him away with a glint in his eye, and smacked his arse. “Go,” he said. “Before Weasley barges in here hoping to catch you wanking.”

   Harry smiled, but there was a tugging at his heart that wouldn’t quite go away as he opened the door and stepped out into the main body of his flat, closing the door behind him.

   “Finished wanking?” Ron quipped with a grin, putting the lid back on the biscuit tin and shoving a whole ginger snap into his mouth.

   “Very funny,” Harry said, rolling his eyes but also praying his boner had subsided enough not to be noticeable in his jeans. “You ready to go?”

   Ron shrugged. “Whenever you are mate,” he said, then nudged Draco’s expensive Italian loafers, discarded by the sofa and causing Harry’s heart to skip a beat. “Nice shoes by the way,” he said.

   It was a good job Harry wasn’t hiding a girl in his bedroom, as even Ron would notice if there were a lady’s paraphernalia littered about the place. But the fact was Draco’s had bits and pieces all over the flat, least of which were the shoes Ron had managed to spot. “Er yeah,” said Harry, shoving his feet into his trainers and grabbing a jacket off the peg by the door. “Got them on a whim, on sale, they pinch a bit.” _Stop talking!_ his brain yelled. “So you’re sure you want to go to Oxford Street, there’s perfectly good Muggle shops here in Bristol?”

   Ron shoved his hands in his pockets.   “Actually I think it’s Carnaby Street we want, they’ve got cool shops Dean said. Or Covent Garden – they’re near each other yeah?”

   “Yeah,” said Harry distractedly, concentrating very hard on not looking back at his bedroom door, imagining Malfoy pressed up against it, listening to their every word, heart in his mouth. “Shall we go?”

 

xxx

 

   Harry tried to enjoy the day out with Ron. It was quite cute trying to keep a lid on his enthusiasm for regular Muggle oddities like card machines and clothes mannequins. After several years together he was determined to get Hermione something special for her birthday, hence thinking outside the box and forcing Harry to help him go Muggle shopping.

   But try as he might, Harry’s mind kept drifting back to Draco, and the knot in his stomach got tighter and tighter as the day went on. Because there was just one downside to dating Draco Malfoy: they were literally the only two that knew about it.

   At first Harry had agreed. The idea of trying to explain what had blossomed in those few hours they were stuck together in that cottage, of their incredible night of passion that grew quietly but strongly into a genuine relationship, it was mind boggling. “Hey Ron!” he imagined himself saying as they perused over shoes and jewellery. “Guess who I’m shagging? Yes, the last person you’d ever think of on the whole entire planet!”

   But as the months passed Harry found himself ready to have that conversation, ready to argue and fight and explain that he’d actually fallen in love with the boy he’d spent his school years thinking he hated. The thing was, Draco absolutely disagreed.

   Harry didn’t doubt he cared for him, that he was committed to what they had together, but for him, it was enough. He seemed terrified of exposing themselves to the rest of the world for scrutiny, and wanted to hide away in their protected little bubble.

   It may have been safe, but Harry wasn’t sure if it was healthy. He was getting too accustomed to lying to his friends, his _best_ friends, turning down dinners and drinks and any number of other social activities for no apparent reason, unable to explain that there was a very good, very blond, very nubile reason waiting for him at home.  

   So by the time Ron had finally found a gift, and then dragged Harry into a pub for one pint that turned into three, Harry apparated back into his front room with a bit of a storm cloud over his head.

   Draco was draped over the sofa, a large bowl of popcorn on the floor, some silly romantic comedy on the TV. “Hey!” he cried delighted, pressing pause and jumping up to give Harry a hug. “You pick me up anything nice?” He winked, he was joking, but Harry felt it was very much the wrong thing to say in that moment.

   He sighed, tired, goaded by the beer swilling round his empty stomach. “How could I buy you something with Ron around? I don’t have a boyfriend, remember?”

   Draco sobered up instantly, pulling away and blinking. Harry immediately felt like a twat, and wished he’d never said anything.

   “Harry-” Draco began, but he waved him off.

   “Sorry, forget it, I’ve got a headache from too much cheesy store music.”

   But Draco looked hurt. “Harry do you want to talk about it?”

   He pulled off his jacket and hung it up. “I just can’t stand this lying, it’s getting to me, I understand where you’re coming from, I just…” He trailed off, toeing his trainers off without bothering with the laces. Shit, he hadn’t meant to have this conversation, he wasn’t ready.

   “Harry you know how I feel,” said Draco quietly. “People won’t understand.”

   “You mean your father won’t understand,” said Harry, rubbing his forehead. “Because that’s what it comes down to doesn’t it; there couldn’t possibly ever be a gay Malfoy.”

Draco’s face darkened, and Harry realised he’d pushed one of his pressure points. “And that’s exactly one of the reasons I don’t want to tell anyone,” he said, crossing his arms. “I don’t know if I’m gay Harry, I don’t. And trying to tell my father that, that I’m just fucking you and not even sure if I like any other men, he’ll lose his shit, he won’t listen to any reason.”

   Harry tried not to rise to the bait, but honestly, he knew this had been brewing for a while. “Just fucking?” he repeated.

   “That’s not what I meant,” Draco began, but Harry cut across him.

   “No but that’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re too ashamed to come out and commit to this, because for you it’s just a phase, an experiment.”

   “Harry that is _not_ fair,” Draco snapped.

   Harry rubbed his fingers into his eyes. “You know why I never got serious with any of those Muggle guys – and believe me, there was more than one I wanted to get serious with.” It was cruel, but Harry couldn’t help but feel a small sense of triumph as pain flickered across Draco’s face. Good. A little jealously proved at least he did care at some level. “Because I refused to be a part of a relationship built on lies. And yet here I am, neck deep in bullshit! It’s making me sick!”

   “Oh we can’t all be brave Gryffindors,” Draco crowed, stomping around the coffee table. “I’m not like you, I have hundreds of years of family history hanging over my head! We’ve barely managed to scrape back any kind of reputation after the war, my father’s not long out of Azkaban, and you want me to behave like some sort of rebellious child, running round telling everyone I’m a magnificent poof when all I know is I want to be with you, that you make me _happy._ Isn’t that enough?”

   He came closer to Harry, the hurt clear in his eyes, but Harry had hold of his stick and he was going to beat his point home regardless. “Draco I love you. I _love you.”_ He ran his hand down the side of his lover’s face, caressing his cheek. But the words hung there and Draco looked away, biting his lip. “But there’s only so many times I can say it and not hear it back.” Harry heard the tremor in his voice, and he pulled his hand away.

   “There’s only so many parties I can go to and endure people ribbing me about my single life, asking why I don’t have a boyfriend. Christ, Ron’s pissed off with the amount of times I’ve blown him off, but I swear Hermione starting to suspect I have a drug problem!” He ran his hands through his hair and took a step back. “I just don’t see why we can’t start coming out, gradually. It doesn’t have to be a big scandal, but the way we are now makes me feel like it’s some dirty little secret!”

   Draco scowled. “I’m not doing this to make you feel bad,” he berated. “Do you think I enjoy lying, sneaking around? I barely see my friends anymore, I’m always here, they’re asking questions too. But I don’t know what to tell them yet, not right now. Can’t you just give me some more time, wait until I feel like I’m ready?”

   Harry was shaking his head though. “How much more time do you need?” he demanded. “How much more proof do you need that this is real, that what we have is important? When will I be good enough for you to admit that this isn’t just some fling?”

   Anger flashed across Draco face. “You know it’s nothing like that, it’s not that I don’t think you’re good enough, that’s fucking stupid – you’re _Harry Potter. I’m not good enough for you!”_

   “Urgh!” Harry let out an exasperated cry and flung his hands out. “And I’ve told you that’s _ridiculous._ You are the only person I have even been with seriously, the only actual relationship I have to my name. Do think I’d do that for anything less than love, that I think you’re anything less than worthy? I’m sick of constantly being made to feel ashamed instead of proud!”

   “Harry I don’t know what to say,” Draco snapped, side stepping Harry’s point. “There’s certain pressures on me, responsibilities that I’m not willing to throw away just yet, not when I don’t know you won’t realise you could be with someone better – you’ll move on with your life, and I’ll have wrecked everything – _again.”_

   Harry stared at him mutely for several seconds. “There is so much fucked up with that statement I’m not sure even where to begin.”

   “Harry-”

   “But _how about,”_ he cut across. “These _responsibilities_ you can’t throw away?”

   Draco wrapped his arms around his body, swallowing and looking up at Harry with guilty eyes. Disgust welled up in Harry, no doubt what he was talking about.

   “Fucking hell,” he breathed. “You’re still considering that sham fucking engagement, aren’t you?” When Draco didn’t answer Harry felt his temper rocket. “Are you _shitting_ me!” he yelled. “You’re stringing me along, knowing you might just drop me for some girl mummy and daddy have picked out for you!”

   “I’m not stringing you along!” Draco yelled back. “But let’s face facts, this is the longest either of us have been in a relationship, it might not last, people break up every day. And while you’ll just find someone else, if I’ve come out as being with you, with another man, no respectable pure blood family will let their daughters anywhere near me!”

   “So your argument for keeping this secret is that it might not work,” Harry snarled. “Even though I am telling you point blank that keeping it secret is _killing_ me and I’m not sure how much longer I can do it!”

   “So you’d just out us,” Draco said, stunned. “Against my will?”

   Harry felt his insides run cold. “No Draco,” he said. “I’d never hurt you like that. But,” he felt a lump rising in his throat. How had they got here so fast, everything was fine this morning? “I guess I’m saying I can’t stay in a relationship built on lies.”

   Draco just looked at him, not saying anything for so long Harry could swear he felt fissures cracking in his heart.

   “You’re breaking up with me?” he asked in a small voice.

   Harry balled his fits. “I don’t want to! Fuck that’s the last thing I want! But Draco I can’t hide behind secrets any more, and I’m certainly not going to hang around whilst you decide whether or not this is worth it, or whether you should just go for the safe option and marry some girl you barely know!”

   Draco rubbed his face and paced towards the fireplace. His distress was awful to witness, but Harry knew he was right, he couldn’t pretend any more, he couldn’t let himself be treated with any less respect than he deserved.

   He watched Draco turn back around. “So you’re giving me an ultimatum?”

   “No,” cried Harry, then thought about it. “Maybe, I don’t know! I just know I can’t carry on like this, something has to change!”

   “I can’t,” Draco pleaded. “I can’t, please don’t make me.”

   Harry pressed his fingers to his temples. “Maybe we just need some space,” he said. Perhaps that way Draco would see sense, if he had a few days to himself to see Harry’s point of view.

   But Draco just paled, mouth slightly parted in shock. “You are breaking up with me.”

   “No,” Harry began, but Draco was already spinning around the table, snatching up his loafers and shoving them on his feet.

   “Fine,” he growled. “Fine, just bloody fine.”

   “Draco wait,” Harry said. “Don’t go, we can talk, we’re too angry right now.”

   “Damn right I’m angry,” Draco uttered, marching off to the bedroom with Harry in his wake, grabbing up his bag, throwing in whatever possessions he laid his hands on first before seizing his wand from the nightstand. “It’s so fucking easy for you, you’re still the golden boy, doing whatever the hell you like, no consequences.”

   _“Easy!”_ Harry exploded, crossing the line he swore he never would. “Easy is sitting by and letting evil creep over you like a plague. My life has never been _easy_ Draco Malfoy!”

   Suddenly he was that boy again, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, tears running down his face, and Harry wished he could snatch the words back. But he couldn’t, and with his jaw clamped tight Draco shoved past him, throwing his coat over his shoulders.

   “Don’t worry Potter,” he sneered, striding to the apparition point in the centre of Harry’s living room. “You won’t have to lie any more. I won’t bother you again.”

   And with a swift turn of the feet, he vanished into thin air, leaving Harry all alone, wondering how the hell everything had gone so wrong, so fast.

 

xxx

 

   The first few hours passed in a numb blur. Harry had collapsed onto the sofa, still warm from where Draco had been lying, and stared at the ceiling as his thoughts whirred like an angry bee hive. He hadn’t meant to start the fight, he hadn’t, but now it was done he couldn’t bring himself to regret what he’d said.

   He’d known that Draco was nervous about exposing themselves by coming out as a couple, but the fact he was still hanging on to this possibility of marrying someone just because his parents wanted him to? That was what left Harry feeling truly sick to his stomach.

   He would come around, he insisted to himself. He had to. Everything they’d been through couldn’t possibly just go up in smoke because of one argument. Draco would calm down and see sense, Harry had to believe that.

   It was this that persuaded him off the couch a few hours later, by which time the sun was setting and the TV had had enough of being on pause for so long and turned itself off. Harry went to his spare room where his grouchy owl Mildred was sat on her perch. “You alright to take a message for me?” Harry asked, his voice hoarse and taut.   She seemed to sense he wasn’t his usual self, as all she did was scowl and stick her leg out. She didn’t even try to bite him.

   _“Draco,”_ Harry scrawled hastily. _“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m here when you’re ready to talk.”_

   He resisted adding any notes of love or affection beyond that, in case the message was intercepted. Despite his anger he meant what he said, he wouldn’t out Draco against his will. He just had to hope his patience was enough.

   Harry didn’t receive a reply that evening, which he wasn’t all that surprised by, but it lead to a fitful night’s sleep. He would never consider not going into the office, but he couldn’t help but wish he could have Sunday over as the alarm went off and dragged him out of bed.

   Work was busy so kept his mind occupied. Ron asked once if he was feeling alright, but seemed satisfied with Harry’s explanation of a headache. Since they had begun their relationship, Harry had only bumped into Draco twice at work; however that didn’t stop him from jerking his head up hopefully every time someone walked past their door. He was being foolish. Draco needed more than a few hours to think about everything, he would just have to wait.

   But as the week stretched out, Harry’s anxiety became almost unmanageable. This was the longest they’d gone without talking to one another since the cottage, let along seeing each other. So come Thursday Harry found himself penning another note, urging Draco to get in touch so they could work things out.

   They barely had any mutual friends and didn’t work in the same area of London, so it was hardly surprising that another week went by and Harry had neither sight nor sound of the man he considered to be his boyfriend. Several more notes went un-replied to, and Harry threw himself into work, staying late in the evenings and putting extra effort into old cases he’d dismissed previously as unsolvable. Anything to keep his mind free from dwelling on sparkling grey eyes and soft blond hair.

   His bed felt massive, and Harry taunted himself by sleeping on Draco’s side in one of the t-shirts he’d left behind, even when it no longer smelled of him or his aftershave anymore. After another week he got into a bad habit of falling asleep on the couch in a bid to avoid that numb emptiness of waking up alone and bereft.

   He forcibly limited the amount of notes he wrote, no more than three a week, no matter how bad it got. He kept telling himself, every time he let one fly with Mildred, that _this_ might be the lucky one, that Draco would have had enough time to think by the time _this_ one reached him.

   And before he knew it a month had passed. Then two, and his hope was starting to dwindle. Surely Draco couldn’t avoid him forever? Maybe the time had come to show up at his flat, bang down the door, neighbours be damned?

   In the meantime, Ron and Hermione had finally convinced him to come round theirs for dinner one Wednesday evening, and Harry had grown so accustomed to his dark moods he figured he could put on a brave front, just for a few hours. He saw Ron at work obviously, but it was much harder to get away with these things around Hermione.

   The world didn’t revolve around Draco bloody Malfoy, so Harry had found himself standing outside their semi-detached house in Berkshire, clutching a bottle of Pinot Grigio and reminding himself to breathe. These were his best friends in the whole world, he had neglected them horribly over the past several months since Valentine’s, and he needed to make up for it.

   “Harry!” cried Hermione as she flung open the door and enveloped him in a hug that was more hair than arms. “It’s been forever, come in, come in!”

   During the course of dinner and listening to Ron and Hermione banter back and forth, Harry realised he should have done this much, much sooner. He had blamed Draco for keeping him apart from his friends, whereas the truth was in his absence Harry had still imposed the same restrictions on himself. He could feel himself relaxing and coming back out of his shell after a couple of glasses of wine and several belly aching tales of what the rest of the Weasleys had been up to lately. Harry showed them pictures of Teddy and Andromeda, telling them about how his godson was getting on now he was enrolled in the local Muggle school, and they all passed anecdotes around about mutual work colleagues and old friends from Hogwarts.

   When they’d had desert, Harry had found himself trapped by a fat and still rather intimidating Crookshanks settling on his lap, so Ron had cleared the plates while Hermione fixed them up cups of tea. She floated the crockery back in to the dining room and chatted to Harry about the latest reform she was working on, when Ron came back in with a pile of mail in his hands, opening it whilst listening to his fiancé talk proudly about her work.

   “Anything interesting?” Hermione asked him as she finished her story and tried to force French fancies upon Harry, who was finding it hard to resist.

   Ron arched an eyebrow and started dividing up the letters. “Bill, bill,” he said, tossing them in one pile. “For you, for me, junk, bill – oh?” He paused on an unusual looking silver letter with grand black writing on. “It’s addressed to both of us?”

   “Looks like an invitation or something,” Hermione suggested as Ron ran his finger along the edge, cracking the wax seal.

   “Yeah it is,” said Ron, pulling out a rectangle of stiff card. “Blimey, Draco Malfoy’s got engaged.”

   Harry felt his whole world plummet away from him in one swift motion.

   “Really?” said Hermione.

   Ron frowned as he read the information on the card. “Yeah, to some girl named Astoria Greengrass?”

   “Oh,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “She’s Daphne’s younger sister isn’t she – she was in our year.”

   Ron gave her a blank look and shook his head. “Anyway, they’re having a big engagement party on Saturday, no clue why we’re invited – maybe they’re literally inviting everyone, trying to look impressive.”

   “Harry?” Hermione’s voice cut through uncertainly. “Harry are you alright?”

   The cat had leapt from his lap, and Harry was currently gripping onto the edge of the dining room table, pretty certain it was the only thing stopping him collapsing onto the floor. Blood was rushing through his ears, it felt like a whistle was screeching inside his skull. He’d done it, he’d _fucking done it._

   “I don’t,” he stammered. “Not feeling so-”

   He jumped from the table, and raced towards the downstairs loo, banging the door open and slamming it shut as Hermione and Ron called after him. He only just got the toilet seat up before his dinner came flying back up his throat, and he retched noisily as his body shook and tears crept from the corner of his eyes.

   _How could he have been so stupid!_ He had thought Draco needed time, space. He should have gone slamming on his door after his first message had been ignored, he should have tried harder, he should have done _something!_ But now it was too late. He’d announced his engagement to that girl and it was all over.

   Harry had let the only man he’d ever loved slip away.

   “Harry!” Hermione shouted, banging on the door. “Harry are you alright!”

   “Give us a sec,” he croaked back, flushing the loo and rinsing his mouth out with water. His hands were shaking but he tried to steady himself as he took several breaths in and out, then opened the bathroom door. “I think maybe I had a dodgy sandwich at lunch,” he said meekly as Ron and Hermione’s worried faces greeted him. “I wasn’t your cooking I swear.”

   Hermione hugged him and fetched him some water, while Ron asked if he wanted to help him apparate home.

   “Nah,” Harry said, managing a ghost of a smile. “I’ll be alright, sorry for cutting the evening short.”

   It wasn’t until he was back in the dark of his living room did he begin to cry.

   He crumbled onto the sofa, curling into a ball, letting the sobs wrack through his body. Angrily he yanked his glasses off and let the tears seep into his sleeve, cradling his head, his sides cramping as he struggled to breathe. He wasn’t sure when he’d last cried this hard, after the battle of Hogwarts maybe? That one night several days later when it had finally hit him and he gave up being strong for the first time in years and just let it all go.

   He’d been with Ginny then. He had thought he was in love and she had held him and soothed him as he grieved for all the people who had fallen in his wake. But this was a different kind of grief, he realised as he shook and clenched his fists. Different to the terrible depths of despair that came from knowing loved ones had been snatched away by death.

   This pain came from knowing that Draco would rather live a lie, would rather marry someone he didn’t know, let alone love, than be with him. He had chosen reputation over happiness, and it killed Harry knowing he was out there in the world, unhappy because he felt his duty to the Malfoy name was more important than Harry’s love.

   Harry tried to slow his shaky breathing down, smearing tears away in his attempt to calm down. Snatching his glasses up he pushed himself unsteadily off the sofa, and picked his wand off from where he’d dropped it on the table. _“Revelio,”_ he said angrily, flicking the spell over the flat, catching all the little trinkets he kept hidden away, even from Draco.

   Photo frames came into sight, collections of seashells, postcards, and on the centre of the mantelpiece, a single red rose, charmed to stay fresh and standing proudly in a slender crystal vase. Harry had hidden his mementos from the world, afraid anyone would catch him and Draco out on their secret. He’d shown Draco whenever he added something new to his collection, but for the most part it had all stayed secret.

   Harry swallowed thickly as he moved into the bedroom, eying up the six photographs in the multi-frame, all containing words inscribed in fire; Draco’s poem to him after their first night together, the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for Harry. _“I’ll give you my heart, if you trust me with yours,”_ Harry said aloud.

   He let out a roar of frustration and balled his hands in his hair. He _had_ trusted Draco with his heart, and he had been too _scared_ to trust him back. He had _sabotaged_ the best thing either of them had ever had by being selfish and _stupid!_

   Harry wanted to throw something, but instead he dropped onto his bed and screamed into the pillows, thumping at the mattress until he felt the anger dissipate. Turning onto his back he breathed deeply, in and out, pressing his palm against his forehead.

   A sensible part of his brain that was still functioning remembered it was odd that Hermione and Ron had got an invitation to the engagement party. As if sleepwalking, Harry rose from the bed and scooped his mail up from where Mildred deposited it on the small table by the front door. Sure enough, a silver envelope was waiting for him, and the sick irony of it made him actually laugh out loud. He opened the damn thing without any ceremony, eyes dancing briefly over the details of the night. The only thing that really sunk in was that the invite was addressed to him _and a plus one._ Draco was telling him to bring a _date_ to his fucking engagement party.

   Well, Harry wasn’t sure about that, but with a savage sense of resolution he made up his mind. He would be there on Saturday night.

   Even if it was probably the worse idea he’d ever had.

 

xxx

 

   He took it back. This was _definitely_ the worse idea he’d ever had.

   After weeks of time feeling like it was going backwards, Saturday snuck up on him with a kind of malice, and Harry found himself staring at the mirror on the inside of his wardrobe, hoping it might help him out.

   His reflection just shrugged and ruffled his hair, as if to say _I dunno mate, this was your stupid fucking plan._

   He was meeting up with Ron and Hermione in less than an hour, and at this rate he was going to be late. In the past couple of days he’d heard from Luna, Neville, even Seamus and Dean to say they had all also had been invited and were looking forward to a school reunion of sorts. Harry tried to bolster his spirits and remind himself seeing his friends more was a big part of what their break up had been about, but he still couldn’t quite shift the nausea in his guts.

   Ginny had a match and couldn’t attend, which was a shame as Harry could have really used her support. After being done with her heartbreak, Ginevra Weasley had become quite enamoured with the idea of a gay BFF, and if anything her and Harry’s relationship had gotten even closer. He would have really appreciated her candour right now about his current panic regarding his outfit, but unfortunately she was off in Germany with the Harpies and that was that.

   So Harry was left to stare, feeling inadequate, as he demanded to himself exactly _why_ he was going through with this in the first place.

   He knew the answer though. He wanted to see Draco. Even if it was painful, terrible, destructive, he had to see him and try and talk to him, ask him why he was doing this, why he hadn’t even returned _one_ of Harry’s letters.

   Harry decided to have a shower, then pick out what he was going to wear. He scrubbed every inch of his skin viciously, then took great care to shave closely afterwards. Draco preferred him smooth, whereas Harry didn’t mind a bit of stubble. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking what Draco would like, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

   His mind wandered as he dragged the blade across his throat, thinking how after that first night Draco had freaked out and not talked to him. He should have understood that was a sign of things to come, that it was a foreshadowing that Draco would never jump in with both feet. Maybe they could have saved each other a whole load of fucking heartache.

   Harry dressed in black trousers, white shirt and black cravat. He couldn’t help but add some colour with the silly Quidditch socks Draco had bought him for his birthday, the ones with broomsticks and snitches on. He knew he was only asking for trouble but he so desperately wanted to feel a connection with Draco again. Besides, he thought, slipping on his polished black leather boots, no one else was going to see them. They might just bolster his courage somewhat.

   Then came the dress robes. He considered going traditional, formal, but Harry knew what he wanted to wear, even if this really did get him in trouble.

   Draco’s main present to him in July had been an exquisite robe in the new style that was only just becoming fashionable outside of Italy. More like a tailcoat, it fastened across the chest with four buttons in a square, then dropped by the hips to sweep all the way to the ground. It complimented a more modern, Muggle style of dressing underneath, hence Harry’s choice of the suit, and did extremely flattering things to ones arse. His was in an iridescent green with teal and gold thread woven through the intricate pattern which could have been mistaken for floral at first glance, but was in actual fact a series of Hungarian Horntails writhing in and amongst one another.  

   Harry didn’t want to wear it because he didn’t want Draco thinking he was desperate, but at the same time he knew nothing else he owned made him look half as good.

   Looking at his watch he only had five minutes before he needed to apparate, so he decided he didn’t give a flying fuck what Draco thought if he wasn’t going to give him the respect of treating him like a human being. And if he changed his mind and _did_ decide to talk to him…well maybe he would think it was romantic. It was only desperate if Harry let it be.

   He slipped it on and felt a flutter of gratitude towards his reflection as he gave him a thumbs up, before closing the wardrobe and taking a quick detour to the bathroom. A combination of a bit of wax and patience had lead Harry to get a reasonable handle on his hair after all these years. It was still stubbornly trying to impersonate a wild hedge, but at least it was glossy and had some sort of organised shape to it.

   Washing his hands he popped his head in to say goodbye to Mildred. “Wish me luck?” he said half-heartedly. Mildred hooted back in a manner that clearly translated as _‘Shan’t.’_

   With the silver invite burning a hole in his pocket, Harry took a long breath in and out, before turning on the spot, and vanishing into the ether.

 

xxx

 

   He raised a hand to wrap his knuckles on Ron and Hermione’s front door, when it suddenly opened anyway, revealing Hermione’s anxious face. “Oh good, you’re here,” she said, attempting to smile. “We have a bit of a – wow.” She took a little step back and admired Harry. “You look amazing.”

   Harry rubbed the back of his neck. Well that was a good start. “Thanks,” he said bashfully. “So do you.” She was in a cobalt blue strapless dress that synched in at the waist and ended just above her knees. A second layer of blue gossamer material started at the waist, then dropped in a dipped hem to just below her knees at the front, then by her ankles at the back. Combined with hair that must have taken hours to tame and a simple diamond necklace, she looked very elegant indeed.

   She shook her head and remembered what she had been saying before. “Bit of a problem, need your help.”

   She ushered him in where Harry followed the sound of pacing and muttering into their living room. Ron was already dressed in his favourite black robes with gold piping that he’d worn to all his brother’s weddings so far, and his head snapped up when Harry entered.

   “We can’t go,” he said, eyes wide as if this was obvious.

   “Right,” said Harry, trying to sound neutral. He really didn’t want to have to go without his best mates to back him up. “Why’s that?”

   “Did you look at the invite?” Ron asked as Hermione came to place a soothing hand on his shoulder. “It’s at _Malfoy Manor.”_

   Harry glanced at Hermione. “Er, yeah,” he said. “Draco’s parents are hosting it.”

   Ron looked dumbfounded. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time we were _at_ Malfoy Manor!”

   Harry frowned. Until realisation set in, and his face fell in horror.

   He’d been so wrapped up in his own love-sick worries he hadn’t even thought about the fact that they were going back to the house where Hermione had been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, where Dobby had died saving them, where Luna had been held prisoner.

   But before he could say anything, Hermione was already replying. “Ron that was years ago,” she said, cupping his face in her hands. “It’s fine, I’m fine.”

   “Well maybe I’m not bloody fine!” Ron shot back. “I had to listen to you _screaming._ Why does it matter so much, it’s just Malfoy, I was alright going for a bit of a laugh to see old mates, but not _there,_ not in that place!”

   “Ron’s right,” Harry said hastily. “We should just forget about it, it’s not worth it.” He felt sick with shame. He was pining over some guy who had, as Ron had quite rightly reminded him, stood by and let one of the people he loved most in the world be tortured.

   Hermione had a determined look in her eye though. “Well,” she said carefully. “Maybe _I_ want to go back. Maybe I need to. What happened there was awful but it’s in the past and we should be concentrating on the future, not letting anything hold us back.”

   Harry frowned at her. “You want to go back,” he clarified. “For closure?”

   She nodded. “And it’s not like Draco had any choice in Voldemort taking over his house.” Even after all these years, Ron still flinched at the use of You-Know-Who’s real name. “He’s moved on, you guys work with him right. He’s building a new life for himself so I want to go for that too.” She looked to Harry for agreement. “You know, for moral support.”

   Ron blinked at her. “You are aware you are talking about Malfoy right? Guy you punched in the face, let the Death Eaters into the school, tried to kill Dumbledore, stood by Voldemort at the battle-”

   “Hey, that’s enough!” Harry heard himself snap. Then he froze. It wasn’t his place to defend Draco, he didn’t deserve it, but to hear Ron talking about him like that... “I just mean…” he flailed. “That’s not the point. He’s not a bad guy, but I don’t care about that, I care about you two. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but if you do I’ll support you.”

   Hermione looked up at Ron. “I want to go,” she said. “Please.”

   Ron frowned at her, then at Harry, before sighing. “Okay, if you think it’s a good idea. But I reserve the right to freak out and demand we all leave.”

   Harry gave Hermione a piercing look. “I agree. We can leave at any time.”

   Hermione seemed pleased though. “Excellent,” she said, grabbing a travelling cloak from off the side of the sofa. “Luna and Neville and the others would be so disappointed anyway. We can just go, see how we feel, then head home whenever we feel like it.”

   She smiled at Harry and nodded, before heading out the front door to their apparition point. Harry raised an eyebrow at Ron who just shrugged. “If she reckons it’ll be good for her, that’s okay with me. I just think it’s weird we’ve been invited to a party by Malfoy in the first place. Hey – do you reckon this has something to do with you getting stuck with him in Scotland?”

   Harry swallowed. “Maybe,” he said. “Come on, let’s follow Hermione before she leaves without us.”

 

xxx

 

   As they materialised in front of Malfoy Manor Harry shot Hermione a questioning glance, but she seemed perfectly fine. A little nervous perhaps, but certainly not panicking or turning to run.

   Flaming torches lined the way inside, and house-elves in neat tea-towel uniforms stamped with the Malfoy crest bowed and took Hermione’s cloak.

   “I hope they’re treating them better than they treated Dobby,” she hissed, her mood suddenly darkened.

   “Oh no, Draco’s quite a stickler for the sanctions you helped pass,” Harry jumped in, then realised, once again, he was defending his ex a little more vehemently than he should have been.

   He lamented sadly, at some point in the last few days, he had been mentally referring to Draco as his ex. It felt like hatchet in his chest, but it was probably best considering he was about to see him parading around with a girl he intended to marry on his arm.

   He balked. This was a _horrendous_ idea. He should just leave, now. But Hermione had taken his house-elf comment to heart, and slipped her arm through his and beamed at him.

   Ron grunted and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Since when did he become _Draco?”_ he asked them both.

   “Because there are several Malfoys,” said Hermione casually as they followed the crowd into the ballroom. “And it makes me think of his father. It feels more natural to call him Draco.”

   “Hm,” was all Ron said.

   They were soon distracted by champagne bought to them on trays, and vol-au-vents filled with all manner of delightful concoctions. Music from a string quartet filled the air, and Hermione was steering the two men around as she found several people she knew to introduce them to. She didn’t seem bothered at all by being back in the Manor. Harry guessed it was maybe because it was the other side of the house where everything had gone down, but also perhaps because the entire place had been renovated and scrubbed clean of Dark Magic. It was part of the conditions of Lucius’ release from Azkaban, but he’d heard it from Draco that Narcissa had been fastidious in the act of reclaiming her home back from the Death Eaters that had infested it.

   “Luna!” Hermione cried in delight, and they made their way over to where their good friend was being twirled around dreamily by a bohemian looking chap who was regarding her with adoration.

   “Hermione!” she beamed, spiralling out of the man’s arms to embrace her. “Ronald, Harry.” She hugged them with equal affection, and Harry felt himself calm for the first time all day. “I’d like you to meet Rolf, he’s my dancing partner.”

   Rolf grinned. “Amongst other things,” he grinned, and gave them all firm handshakes. “Rolf Scamander. Luna’s vastly inferior other half.”

   Harry hadn’t realised Luna had a boyfriend, but he had kind eyes that made Harry think she’d found a good one. The gaggle chatted amiably for a while, soon to be joined by Neville and his wife Hannah. Harry drained his champagne flute a little too quickly, and almost immediately found it replaced by an eager house-elf. He did a reasonably good job paying attention to the conversations going on around him, and allowed himself to be distracted by several work colleagues passing by wanting a quick catch up. But his eyes were obsessively scanning the room, looking for that beacon of shining blond hair. Draco’s height normally made him pretty easy to spot in a crowd, but even when Harry suddenly did spy him he still wasn’t ready.

After almost two and a half months Harry couldn’t quite comprehend what seeing his former lover was doing to his body. He stiffened immediately, gripping the once again empty glass so tightly it was in danger of breaking. Draco was half way across the room, smiling and talking with guests, oblivious to the hole Harry was boring into his skull. On his arm was presumably Astoria Greengrass, but Harry could only catch glimpses of rich brown hair in ringlets as the people around them waxed and waned.

   Another helpful house-elf switched over his glass, and he found his name being called to pull him back into the conversation, drawing his attention away from Draco but not dimming the pain in his chest much. He could feel Draco’s presence behind him like a flame, hot on his skin. What was he going to say? Of course he would be attached to Greengrass the whole evening, what had Harry been thinking?

   It was like being a part of a slow motion car crash. Is was only a matter of time before Harry was going to have to confront the man he loved and look his new girlfriend in the face. He bit his lip and blinked his eyes. He could do this, he would show Draco he was strong. He didn’t want his fucking pity.

   Luna spotted a friend of her father’s and pulled Rolf over to say hi. Neville and Hannah chatted to Harry for a little while until Susan Bones came and dragged them away, leaving Harry with just Ron and Hermione again. He felt maybe they’d paid their dues; said enough hellos, shown their faces around the place. He was just about to voice that maybe they could call it a night, after all what good would really come from confronting Malfoy here in front of everyone? When Hermione’s eyes went wide, looking just over his shoulder.

   “Harry Potter?”

   His insides went cold.

   He turned around and there she was – Astoria Greengrass. Her beauty up close was ethereal. Almond shaped eyes so icy blue they gave Harry a chill. High cheekbones, a heart shaped mouth, all framed by the lacquered chocolate ringlets that Harry had glimpsed from across the hall. Her pale lavender gown was exquisite and clinging to her figure in all the right places.

   She was currently brimming with excitement as she dragged Draco over towards them, and Harry scrambled around mentally to try and collect his thoughts in time. The trouble was, he only had a matter of seconds to process what Draco was wearing; black shoes, charcoal trousers, white shirt, silver waistcoat, all of that was fairly standard.

   It was the tailcoat robe in almost exactly the same design as Harry’s that practically stopped his heart. Of course Draco would have bought one for himself, the only difference being his was a dove grey with jade and black running through the peacock feather pattern embroidered across the material.

   They matched. They looked like a fucking couple.

   If Astoria noticed though, she didn’t say anything. She came to a halt in front of the trio almost out of breath from her exertion and grinning ear to ear. Draco gave Harry only the briefest of glances, but at least he had the decency to look mildly horrified.

   “It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Astoria cried, sticking her hand out for Harry to shake. He didn’t really see much of an option other than to take it – she had a very firm grip. “I’m Astoria, though I suppose you’ve guessed that.” She winked at him and squeezed Draco’s arm, who gave her a pretty authentic smile back.

   “Harry,” he said softly to him.

   “Draco,” he managed in return, shrinking imperceptibly back towards Ron and Hermione. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said to Astoria.

   “Oh I’ve heard so much about you!” she enthused. “I know we were at school together for a while, but Draco talks about you all the time and it’s different to finally have the chance to say a proper hello.” _Draco talked about him?_ Harry thought. _All the time?_

   He wondered what the hell he had to do to get the ground to swallow him whole.

   He tried his best to keep his breathing regular and gave Draco an appreciative smile, like they were just mates, and he was happy to be meeting his fiancé and that she’d heard a lot about him. He hadn’t actually thought Draco would talk to Astoria about him though, did he even know he was doing it? _Oh Draco,_ Harry thought, lump in his throat. _Is this what you really want?_

   “I’m sure he told you all my terrible secrets,” he said, and couldn’t help feel a tiny bit of satisfaction as Draco’s palled slightly. He instantly felt ashamed. He wasn’t here to taunt Draco, he was just tormented by the idea of him chatting away to this girl about him, because he _loved Harry but was still marrying her._ It was fucked up, and Harry guessed he just wanted Draco to acknowledge that, even on a small scale.

   “Oh no,” she said sincerely. “It’s all good, I promise.” She scrunched up her nose and Harry tried his best to hate her, but she wasn’t honestly what he’d been expecting. He’d been imagining some stuck up cow like Pansy Parkinson, not this energetic and affectionate girl.

   She turned to Hermione and Ron expectantly. Harry thought she must have known who they were too, most people did, but she cast her eyes up to Draco and raised a brow.

   “Darling,” he said, recovering himself. “This is Ron Weasley, Harry’s partner in the office, we work together occasionally.”

   She took his hand and shook it like she had done Harry’s. “And your brother George runs that amazing shop in Diagon Ally doesn’t he? I bet you boys were a handful for your mother!”

   “You have no idea,” Ron chuckled with her.

   “And this is Hermione Granger,” Draco continued, before raising is eyebrows. “Or is it Weasley now as well?”

   Harry stiffened, eyes on Hermione for her reaction. “Well,” she said graciously. “We are going to be getting married in a few months, but it’ll be staying as Granger.”

   Draco smiled at her. Not that phoney crap he was giving most people Harry realised, but that look he let slip out when he was sincerely pleased. “As well it should,” he said.

   “How very modern of you,” agreed Astoria. Harry was surprised. Most people gave Hermione an earful for that, telling her it was disrespectful to Ron, asking what would happen when they had children. Harry almost wanted to curse the pair of them for their understanding response.

   Hermione was obviously pleased too as she smiled, taking Ron’s hand to squeeze it. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s important to me.”

   “Well I’m glad you’re doing it then,” Astoria said. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. And Harry’s going to be best man?” she asked Ron with interest.

   “Of course,” said Ron proudly. “Only so many times a bloke can save your life without earning the right to tell embarrassing stories on your wedding day.”

   Astoria laughed and winked at Hermione. “Oh, that reminds me,” she said, turning to Draco. “I was thinking, seeing as you boys get on so well, you should definitely ask Harry to be one of your ushers.” She faced Harry again, eyes all eager. “I love that you two are friends now, and I think it would be good to shake up the wedding party with at least one non-Slytherin, who better than Gryffindor’s most famous alumni!”

   Harry was pretty sure this was what being hit by a wrecking ball felt like. He couldn’t help but flick his eyes up to Draco, who had lost all composure and looked like he might be sick. At least he and Harry agreed on one thing, but Astoria was waiting for an answer, hands clasped in front of her chest.

   “Of course,” he stuttered. “I’d be honoured.”

   His eyes couldn’t seem to leave Draco’s as she squealed in happiness. He wasn’t sure if Hermione and Ron could see it too, the hurt, but Harry could. There was something like an apology hanging there, but Harry didn’t see what else he could say.

   He had just agreed to be a groomsman for Draco Malfoy. Draco, who Harry had shared a bed with almost every night for over half a year. Draco, who had told him secrets that he’d never told anyone else, who bought Harry silly presents for no other reason than to see him smile, who wrote him poetry and bought him roses and made him tea and had _let him shag him six ways from Sunday and begged and pleaded for more._ Draco Malfoy, whom he loved.

   Draco looked like he might have wanted to say something, but Astoria’s head whipped around, and Harry blinked and realised Narcissa Malfoy had just called her son’s name. “Oh your mother wants you,” said Astoria, before turning back to Harry and the others. “It was so lovely to meet you all,” she said, already pulling Draco away. “We’ll come back later for a proper chat, I promise.”

   Harry managed a stiff nod, as Draco let himself be steered away, giving Harry one last look over his shoulder. That was it then. It was over, done. Harry could feel his insides collapsing like a house of cards.

   Hermione waved at them as they were swallowed up once more by the crowd, and Ron blinked, perplexed. “Well, that actually wasn’t horrible,” he said. “Malfoy was civil and that girl seemed pretty cool.”

   Hermione however, dropped her smile as soon as they were out of sight and spun to catch Harry’s arm, eyes wide with concern as she took a breath in and out. “If you want to get out of here, we’ll cover for you.”

   “W-what?” Harry stammered, looking between her and the point at which Draco had slipped away from view. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

   She glowered. “Harry,” she said firmly, but there was kindness there too. “You have never treated me like an idiot before, please don’t start now.”

   He held her eyes for a few seconds, then could feel what was left of his resolve crumbling away. She knew. Hermione knew. How much, for how long and what precisely, Harry wasn’t sure, but enough that she understood what was left of his heart was breaking into dust.

   There was a tinkling of a spoon on glass, and they looked up to see Draco and Astoria had joined Narcissa and Lucius on the stage where the string quartet had been playing. They were quiet now though as the elder Malfoy called for everyone’s attention, and began to make a toast.

   “I’m sorry,” Harry whispered to Hermione.

   “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” she insisted, looking up at Draco then back to him. “But tormenting yourself is only going to make it worse.”

   Ron frowned at them, diverting his eyes away from the stage. “Hey,” he said, concerned as Lucius droned on about family pride. “What’s going on? Harry, you alright?”

   He swallowed. He could feel the wetness pricking at the edge of his eyes, and he clamped his jaw together to stop it from trembling. If he walked out of here, that was it, it was all over, he might as well admit defeat. _But what was his other option?_ he reasoned as he looked up at the stage, seeing Draco’s hand wrapped around Astoria’s. She seemed like a lovely girl, and he wanted what was best for his family.

   Harry should just get out of there, remove the complication, let them have their happy ending. He thought ruefully back to his and Draco’s final argument, how Draco was convinced if they broke up Harry would just pick up and move on with his life, while Draco’s would be ruined.

   It very much felt like the other way round at that moment.

He looked back at Hermione, and gave her a single nod, closing his eyes in a meagre attempt to halt the grief from washing over him. He felt Hermione throw her arms around him and he returned the embrace one handed, the champagne flute still gripped in the other.

   “Harry,” Ron whispered as they pulled apart, his face awash with concern. “Mate, what the hell’s going on?”

   “I’ll explain later,” Hermione told him softly as Harry thought _fuck it all,_ and downed his champagne in one. He would find a house-elf to give the empty glass to on the way out.

   “Thank you,” he said thickly to Hermione, then gave Ron’s shoulder a slap. He hated not explaining to his best friend, but he couldn’t, not right now. Hermione would fill him in on whatever she knew, and then tomorrow he could spill his guts to them both and hope they didn’t think he was the world’s biggest fool.

   He started pushing his way through the throng back towards the exit, the only person apart from the staff moving, everyone else giving their full attention as Lucius made them laugh with some quip about grandchildren.

   _“WAIT!”_

   The voice rang out like a bell, and the ballroom really did fall deathly silent, even the house-elves stopped what they were doing to look up. Harry’s blood ran cold as, a few seconds later than everyone else, he too came to a halt. Fear prickling up his spine, he slowly turned around, unsure of what he would see.

   Draco was staring directly at him. He had dropped Astoria’s hand and was now instead half reaching forward.

   Reaching for Harry.

   His heart exploded in his chest. What was happening?

   “I’m sorry,” Draco said. His voice wasn’t loud, but the atmosphere was so tense a pin could have been heard dropping. Harry felt fresh pain flicker through him, assuming Draco was talking to him, but in the next heartbeat he turned to look at Astoria and his parents.

   Lucius was forming a very dangerous frown, but Draco didn’t address him. Instead he took his mother’s hand, holding it across Astoria. “I’m so _sorry,”_ he said, shaking his head. “I just wanted to do what’s right, I wanted to make you proud, but I can’t, I can’t do it, I’m _sorry.”_

   He inhaled and grabbed Astoria by the shoulders as Harry watched on in mute horror that he daren’t let blossom into hope. “You deserve so much better,” he said, planting a swift kiss on her cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

   In one fluid motion he spun and leapt off the stage to a chorus of gasps. The room was silent no more as voices began hissing whispers and calling out questions. “Draco!” barked Lucius aghast. “Draco get back here this _instant!”_

   But Draco wasn’t listening. He was marching through the crowd that was parting for him like the red sea as he picked up his pace. Marching straight towards Harry.

   He didn’t allow himself to think. He could only feel his feet as they started to move of their own accord, propelling him towards the direction Draco was headed. More voices began to shout as they got faster, the glass slipping from Harry’s fingers and fracturing on the ground as Draco pushed through the last few bodies, and went crashing straight into Harry.

   The cacophony of sound that assaulted Harry’s ears might have been deafening in any other instance, but Harry barely noticed a thing as he kissed Draco with such ferocity he could feel his teeth bruising his lips. Hands in hair, bodies entwined, wet tears glancing off of skin.

   It only lasted a second, before Harry felt Hermione yank him away. “What are you waiting for!” she yelled, half angry, half delirious as the two men spun apart. Lucius was clambering down the stage, ranting and raving. Everyone around them was hollering in shock and disgust, camera flashes were going off and Ron looked like he was about to pass out. And on the stage, Narcissa had grabbed Astoria’s shoulders, hugging the girl to her body as she looked like she was about to cry.

   But Astoria…Astoria didn’t appear all that unhappy. In fact, she caught Harry’s eye as he stared up at her. And she winked.

   Hermione’s voice brought him back to reality. “Go!” she shrieked, shaking his shoulders with a manic grin on her face. “Get out of here, now!”

   Harry didn’t need telling twice. He grabbed Draco’s hand and raised his eyebrows. Draco nodded once.

   The pair tore through the ballroom, running past most people too surprised to stop them amidst a hail of outrage and one or two wolf whistles. “Whoops!” he heard Hermione cry loudly behind them, and he spared a second to look round and see several floating platters of entrees and trays of champagne had flipped over spectacularly, covering multiple guests with their contents, causing them to flail around in revulsion and block Lucius’ attempts to reach the two fleeing men.

   Harry burst through the ballroom doors, their boots clattering across the entrance hall as he gripped Draco’s clammy hand for dear life and hauled him out the front door. Several house-elves squeaked in their wake, and a couple who had snuck outside for a cigarette jumped in alarm, but Harry didn’t even think about pausing until they had ran far enough to apparate away from Malfoy Manor.

   “Home?” he gasped, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist as he placed his hands on Harry’s chest. He looked shell-shocked and trembled against Harry’s body, but he managed to nod in reply.

   “Home,” he said, his face splitting into a smile full of relief.

 

xxx

 

   Harry had left a couple of lamps on, so the flat wasn’t totally dark when they apparated back into his living room. Even before they had fully finished turning, Draco was throwing his arms all the way around Harry’s body, burying his head into the crook of his neck, shaking and gripping him tightly.

   They stumbled and bashed knees into the coffee table as Harry hugged him back, steadying them, rubbing his hands against Draco’s back and making soothing noises. “Shh,” he whispered as Draco cried, running his hand up his neck and stroking his soft hair. He had him back, he couldn’t quite believe it, Draco was in his arms again. “Shh it’s okay.”

   “Harry I’m so sorry,” he gasped into his skin. “I fucked everything up, please forgive me, please.”

   “Hey,” said Harry, drawing back and cupping Draco’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. “Hey, stop it, everything’s fine.”

   Draco was one of those infuriating people who looked beautiful when they cried. It was like he just blinked and single tears appeared on his long lashes, only to fall gracefully in a single trail down pale cheeks. Harry had closely resembled a red-faced snotty gargoyle the night he had learned of Draco’s engagement.

   Draco took firm hold either side of Harry’s face, anger and pain clear in his expression. “It is so not fine,” he insisted. “I put my family name before everything, again, and now I’ve made it all ten times worse! I just saw you walking away and I _lost_ it and I realised I couldn’t bear to let you go and I understand if you hate me but-”

   Harry needed to stop him talking, so he did the first thing that came to mind and nipped in for a slow, long kiss. He traced his fingertips over Draco’s features, re-learning them all again, every line, every curve, pouring all his love and heartache into this one reassuring act.

   Draco began to relax under his touch, letting himself be moulded by Harry. His hands skimmed down Harry’s shoulders, up his back, running through coarse black hair. “Draco,” said Harry after a while, when he felt less tension in his body. “Do you want to be with me?”

   _“Yes,”_ Draco replied immediately, emphatically. “But-”

   “But nothing,” insisted Harry. “I want to be with you, I have done since Scotland, I don’t want anyone else.”

   Draco tried to still his shuddering chest, taking slow breaths in and out. “But the way I treated you?” he said, his grey eyes wet and fearful. “How can you trust me? I was scared and I just fell back into old defensive behaviours, I thought I was doing the right thing, saving us trouble down the line.”

   “I know,” Harry assured him, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, and I’m not going to tell you the last few months haven’t been hard, that you didn’t break my fucking heart.” Draco grimaced, clamping his jaw as he tried to turn away, but Harry pulled him back. “But I get it, I get you were scared.”

   He waited until Draco opened his eyes again, making sure he had his full attention. “But what you just did,” he carried on. “Was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen you do. It was certainly the most romantic, most dramatic.” He grinned, and was delighted to urge a hint of a smile from Draco’s lips too. “It was incredible.”

   “It was stupid,” breathed Draco, running a hand through his own hair, giving himself a blond halo.

   Harry nudged him with a shoulder. “Maybe there’s a little Gryffindor in you after all,” he said.

   “There’s been a lot of Gryffindor in me, if I remember correctly,” he shot back, giving Harry a wet and shaky smile that just about melted his heart. Harry barked out a laugh and yanked him in for another cuddle, kissing his way up his throat, along his jaw until he found his mouth, claiming it again for himself.

   “Fuck I missed you,” he murmured when they came up for air.

   “Are you sure you don’t hate me?” Draco’s voice was small.

   Harry sighed, and decided they’d been standing long enough. He took both Draco’s hands and lead him over to the sofa, flopping his body into the crevice and pulling Draco down so they were lying together, Harry wrapping his limbs around Draco’s slightly taller form, nuzzling his nose into his hair and along the side of his face. “I never hated you Draco,” he said in hushed tones. “Not really. I was hurt when you cut me off dead though,” he sighed honestly. “You never replied to any of my letters.”

   Draco was shaking his head, screwing up his eyes as fresh tears leaked out. “I was such a coward,” he said, voice wavering slightly. “I thought I could just forget the whole thing, behave like the good son I was supposed to be. If I had replied to any of your notes, even just to tell you it was over, I knew I wouldn’t be able to carry on.”

   “Maybe,” said Harry gently, easing his fingers through Draco’s hair. “That should have been a sign you were doing something really fucking stupid.”

   Draco laughed, grabbing Harry’s hand to bring it to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “Turns out I’m stubborn too. Maybe I really am a bit Gryffindor after all?”

   “Outrageous,” Harry admonished him. “You’re my sneaky little Slytherin, you keep life interesting.”

   Draco sighed against him. “I guess tonight definitely qualifies as interesting.”

   Now it was Harry’s turn to laugh. “For someone shy about coming out of the closet,” he said, hoping he wouldn’t upset him. “I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a picture of you snogging The Boy Who Lived on the front cover of every newspaper in Europe tomorrow morning.”

   Draco groaned, and shifted his weight so he was facing Harry. “Are you mad?” he asked, biting his lip.

   “Are you kidding?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. “I think it’s bloody marvellous. I told you I was proud to be with you, that I wanted everyone to know we were a couple.” He brushed a lock of hair back from his face, exactly the way he had done on that night in Scotland when he’d tested the waters to see what Draco really wanted.

   It turned out, he really wanted Harry.

   Draco’s face dropped though as something occurred to him. _“Astoria,”_ he said, dismayed. “Oh Merlin, she’s going to hate me, breaking her heart in front of _all those people.”_

   Harry didn’t answer right away, he just frowned and replayed his memories, making sure of what he was about to say. “You know,” he said after a moment or two. “I’m not sure she was all that heartbroken.”

   Draco blinked at him. “I just humiliated her,” he said flatly.

   Harry chewed the inside of his cheek. “How did you feel when she asked me to be an usher at your wedding?”

   The fact that their faces were only inches apart made it easier for Harry to understand the depth of Draco’s reaction. Once again he looked physically sick, and his hands clenched around Harry’s body. “It felt cruel and awful,” Draco said quietly, eyes downcast. “Even though she didn’t know what she was doing, it was seeing your face that finally made me realise I was making the biggest mistake of my life.”

   “I think,” said Harry carefully. “She knew exactly what she was doing.”

   Draco’s eyes snapped back up. “What?” he said sharply.

   Harry shrugged awkwardly from his position on the couch. “You’re right, that was it for me, the idea of having to not only watch you marry someone else, but be a _part_ of it, I couldn’t escape fast enough. And it pushed you too, made you act.”

   “But she was just being nice,” Draco insisted. “She _is_ nice, and I just dragged her through a false engagement for no good reason.”

   Harry shook his head. “I’m not denying that,” he said. “Obviously you know her better than me, but I saw something, right after we kissed, and it just made me think.” Draco raised his eyebrows expectantly. “She winked at me. She looked sort of happy, and she winked.”

   Draco pulled a face. “She winked, and that makes you think she purposefully pushed us into making complete tossers of ourselves.”

   “Why, you think she was any less forced into this marriage than you?” Harry questioned. “Maybe the fact that you talked about me _‘all the time’_ made her twig that perhaps your heart wasn’t in it, and she decided to take matters into her own hands.”

   Draco had the good grace to look sheepish, and Harry guessed maybe he was more than a little aware of how much he had talked about him to Astoria. “Because she winked?”

   Harry nodded. “Because she winked.”

   Draco looked stunned, then frowned for a moment as he considered. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said. “Maybe you’re right.”

   “I’m always right,” Harry teased.

   Draco blew out an exaggerated breath. “That is a theory I would definitely like to contest,” he said.

   “You’ll have plenty of time for that,” said Harry, giving him a little kiss. “So. How are you feeling now, really?”

   “Shocked,” Draco admitted. “This is not how I saw the evening ending.”

   “That’s sort of our style now,” Harry told him with a grin. It slipped though. He wasn’t going to jump the gun, he wanted to make sure before getting his heart broken once again. “But – in a good way I hope? I mean, if you’re having second thoughts, we can talk about it? Just because people know doesn’t mean-”

   “Shut up,” said Draco, launching in for a fierce kiss, attacking Harry with his tongue, trapping his bottom lip with his teeth. “Don’t be stupid. I just threw us both under the train, there’s no getting out of this now Potter, you’re mine.”

   Those words lit Harry’s skin on fire like electricity. “I’m yours,” he agreed between breaths and kisses.

 

xxx

 

   After a time, the two of them gradually relented their passions, snuggling deeper into the couch, limbs entwined, foreheads resting together. “I’m worried someone’s going to come looking for us,” said Harry without opening his eyes.

   Draco groaned. “Tell them to piss off if they do,” he mumbled, making Harry chuckle.

   But he was serious. “I’m surprised your father hasn’t come banging on my door demanding I release you from whatever love potion he undoubtedly thinks I’ve got you under.”

   That got Draco’s attention. He blinked and moved back to look at Harry properly. “Shit, yeah you’re right,” he said, massaging his temple. “I absolutely do not want to deal with that tonight.”

   Harry ran his hand along Draco’s side, feeling the embroidery of the magnificent tailcoat he still had on, coming to rest on his hip bone and rubbing his thumb in circles. “How would you feel about going away for the night – it’s not even ten o’clock yet, I could get us a reservation somewhere?”

   Draco frowned slightly at him. “Like, a hotel?” Harry nodded.

   “We’re a real couple now,” he said, feeling himself smile. “We can be seen in public all we like.”

   Draco’s eyes had some of their sparkle back. “We might get recognised though,” he said. “Someone could tell my father and we’d be back to square one.”

   “Not if we went to a Muggle hotel?” Harry suggested.

   Draco thought on this, nibbling on his lip in a way that flipped Harry’s insides. He wanted to do that for him, but he waited patiently as he watched his lover mull it over. “I’d like that,” he said shyly after a while. “Somewhere new and different, so we can start fresh, as a real couple.”

   Harry kissed his forehead. “You stay here, I’ll sort it all okay?”

   Draco laughed at him as he clambered awkwardly over him, but Harry wouldn’t let him get up. He looked so small and fragile, curled up on his sofa with his tear stained face, and Harry crouched down to plant some kisses on his cheeks before going to get his phone. “Stay,” he warned Draco, jabbing a finger at him as he left the room.

Draco smirked and flipped him the bird. “Fuck off Potter,” he said fondly.

   Harry had had a plan a while ago for a Christmas present for Draco, and having spent the last several weeks thinking he wouldn’t be able to give it to him, Harry figured it was okay to go for it even though it wasn’t quite December yet. Whilst he dialled the hotel he’d had in mind, he brewed the kettle in the kitchen, making Draco peppermint tea. The woman he spoke to on the desk was most helpful, assuring Harry that his few special requests were no trouble at all.

   Whilst he was on hold he padded back into the lounge and placed Draco’s mug in front of him with a warm smile, his heart fluttering as he looked up at him from where he was still lying on the couch, one of the cushions hugged to his chest. “Thank you,” he mouthed silently.

   Harry walked back out again, fishing his Muggle credit card from his wallet in the bedroom to confirm the reservation, then jamming the phone between his ear and shoulder, leaving both hands free to start packing a bag.

   He had moved all of Draco’s things from the bathroom into his drawer when he had thought he wasn’t ever coming back. He’d contemplated binning them, but was extremely glad now that he hadn’t. He scooped up all his products and toothbrush, as well as his pyjamas and some Muggle clothes. As he closed up the call he fished out a similar selection for himself, then crawled under the bed, selecting some choice items that he felt might come in handy, stashing them separately in the bag’s front compartment.

   Harry was probably all done and dusted after ten minutes or so, and was glad to see when he walked back into the living room that Draco was standing, drinking his tea, looking the brightest he’d been all night.

   “You kept it,” he said, nodding over his shoulder as he turned to look at Harry. He indicated the single rose in the slim vase on the mantle, a sweet smile creping on his lips.

“Yeah,” said Harry, very glad he’d decided to stop hiding all his mementos from their time together so far. It was the rose Draco had saved from the cottage, the one he’d shown up with at Harry’s office. To him, it symbolised the moment their relationship was born. “I kept some other stuff too.”

   Silently, he dropped his bag on the floor, took Draco’s hand, and started leading him around the flat. He’d told Draco he was doing this, he’d shown him most of the bits and bobs before he’d hidden them from sight, but Harry was starting to realise by doing so he’d probably encouraged Draco’s paranoia. He should never have indulged it, he should have shown him how proud he was all along, then maybe they could have avoided this painful debacle of the past few months.

   They finished in front of the photo frame in the bedroom containing Draco’s version of the Roses Are Red poem. He reached out and touched the frame as Harry snuggled into him.

   “You sure you’re okay with going away?” he asked, worried he was putting too much on him in one night. “We can always just hide away in the bedroom and put a _Muffliato_ charm on the front door?”

   But Draco was shaking his head. “I don’t want anyone to be able to find us,” he said, moving around so Harry was wrapped in his arms as well. “I want to have this moment, just us two. Then tomorrow we can deal with as much drama as the world can throw at us.”

   Harry leant in and rested their foreheads together. “My thoughts exactly,” he said.

 

xxx

 

   As beautiful as they were, Harry had agreed when Draco suggested they change out of their robes. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you,” he’d said, hanging his up in Harry’s wardrobe. “We might as well have worn a flashing sign saying ‘We’re a fucking couple.’”

   Harry leant him his black three-quarter length coat, which was just about passable as stylish and therefore not likely to make Draco spontaneously combust. He then threw on his other jacket along with a scarf and a beanie hat, and they were ready to go.

   He’d looked up the best place to apparate to, but was still relieved when they appeared in London and there was no one in the little alley to see them. They were surrounded by corrugated metal sheets and floodlights, holes in the ground and barriers with yellow and black hazard warning stripes painted on them.

   “How romantic,” Draco drawled. “You’ve brought me to a construction site?” He raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry, who just chuckled.

   “They’re still moving everything around with the station and new cross-rail line – look up.”

   He squeezed Draco’s hand as they both craned their necks. And then Draco took a step back, his head falling back even further. “How high is that building?” he cried.

   Harry was glad he was impressed. “It’s the Shard,” he explained. “The tallest building in Europe.”

   Draco looked back down at him. “Is that our hotel?” he asked a little stunned, and Harry was very glad he had such a huge overdraft on his credit card. To see that look on his boyfriend’s face before they’d even got inside was worth it.

   The fact he could call him his boyfriend again was even better.

   “It’s a lot of things,” Harry said, leading them out of the alleyway to a more busy street with plenty of Muggles walking by, making the most of their Saturday night. “But yeah, our hotel’s part of it. You impressed?”

   “No,” said Draco, smirking at him.

   Harry rubbed his thumb on the back of his hand as they made their way up a flight of stairs towards the base of the skyscraper. It probably wasn’t wise holding hands in public in late night London, some homophobic drunk might have tried to start something. But Harry was on cloud nine, and willing to lose his Auror’s licence by hexing someone if they so much said a word to him.

   But they made it through the front doors without incident, and Harry had to stop and marvel himself at the huge expanse of the Shard’s lobby. It was all marble floors and modern art and square chandeliers dripping with crystals.

   “Harry this is beautiful,” Draco said quietly.

   Harry glanced over at him as they headed to the front desk. “I didn’t think I was going to get this moment with you,” he said just as softly. “I thought I’d lost you. I wanted it to be special.”

   Draco was quiet as Harry confirmed his reservation, and the clerk sent them over to the bank of elevators to head up to the thirty fourth floor where _Shangri La_ had its own reception for them to actually check in.

   The lift doors closed and Harry turned so he was in front of Draco. “Hey,” he whispered. “You’ve got that guilty look back again?”

   “Because I’m feeling guilty,” Draco mumbled.

   The lift was moving so fast Harry’s ears popped and he guessed they were nearly at their floor, but he went in for a kiss regardless. “Everyone makes mistakes,” he said, wishing he hadn’t dampened the mood. “Please don’t be sad. I’m so happy right now, I want you to be too – we make mistakes and we learn from them, that’s what’s important.”

   Draco took a deep breath and managed a little smile as the doors opened with a ping. “Okay,” he said, almost managing conviction.

   They checked in with the woman Harry had spoken to on the phone, before heading back into a different set of elevators that took them up another several floors. Harry twirled their key card between his fingers, and stopped when they got to the right door.

   “Um,” he said, suddenly feeling shy. “Close your eyes for me?” Draco laughed but did as he was told, and Harry quickly slipped the card into the handle, making the lock click and swinging the door inwards. He darted in a few steps to slot the card into the holder by the door, enabling him to turn the lights on and survey the scene. It looked better than he’d hoped, but nerves still fluttered in his stomach.

   He was torn between wanting to surprise Draco with a romantic gesture and not overwhelming him, but he figured he’d wasted enough time being too coy and just hoped he wasn’t going overboard.

   “Harry?” Draco growled, getting antsy standing in the corridor with his eyes shut, so Harry nipped back and gently entwined their fingers, walking backwards and pulling Draco forwards.

   “Keep them closed,” he whispered, freeing one of his hands to close the door with magic and throw up a few protective and silencing charms.

   “If I trip Potter,” Draco threatened idly. “I swear…”

   Harry stopped when they were in the centre of their suite’s living area and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, mentally crossing his fingers. “You can open them.”

   He’d not turned all the lights on, just the side lamps to give the place atmosphere. Still Draco blinked, adjusting his eyes before widening them.

   The windows were floor to ceiling, all along the outside walls, offering a dizzying view of night time London hundreds of feet below. Their suite was furnished in warm cream and bronze colours with a plush lavender carpet and decals of blossom branches creeping up the wall panels. The living room held a large squishy looking sofa, a heavy wooden desk, glass coffee table and a TV almost as big as the wall itself. To the right of the door there was an expansive bathroom with a standalone bear claw tub, and next to that, with the same awe-inspiring windows as the lounge, was the bedroom, filled with a bed so large it was near enough as big as Harry’s whole flat.

   But he suspected that wasn’t what Draco was gawping at. Because, as per Harry’s request, littering every surface of the room there were at least a dozen vases, filled to the brim with purply-blue flowers with delicate petals and dark green leaves fanning around the lip of the vases like a bowl, clutching the flowers up in a bulbous formation. On the table was a large box of heart shaped chocolates, waiting next to which were two icy cold tumblers of gin and tonic.

   Harry could feel his lips press together anxiously as he watched Draco take it all in. He wanted to ask if it was too much, but he clamped his teeth down on his tongue, letting Draco absorb the moment.

   “Violets,” he breathed after what felt like forever.

   “Yes,” Harry whispered.

   Draco turned his head, this way and that, taking them all in. “Roses are red,” he said, coming back to face Harry, his expression lighting up with a grin. “Violets are blue. I was a fucking _idiot_ , to ever leave you.”

   He seized Harry, delving in for a ferocious kiss, one hand in his hair, the other palm flattened against his back, pressing their bodies tightly together as Harry reciprocated, dropping his overnight bag and wrapping his arms tightly around Draco’s body.

   “It’s not too much?” he gasped between crushing lips and tongues.

   Draco began to slow down, his kisses becoming more tender. “It’s perfect,” he said, inhaling slowly, running his thumbs along Harry’s jaw line, pressing their temples together and sighing. “It’s ours, it’s us, but…grander. Like we’re coming out to whole world.”

   Harry broke into a ridiculous grin that he was sure Draco could feel where they were cheek to cheek.

“Yeah,” he said happily. “That’s sort of what I was going for.”

   He eased them apart, shirking out of his coat, hat and scarf, and Draco followed suit, getting comfortable in their home for the night. Harry scooped up the tumblers and handed one to Draco, chinking them together in a toast. “To a bizarre night,” he said warmly.

   They stood by the window for a while, arms around each other’s backs, sipping their drinks and mulling over what they could see from their magnificent view. The train tracks snaking out from London Bridge station below the building made Harry think of veins pulsing towards a heart, beating life into the rest of London.

   Draco turned his body slightly, nuzzling into Harry’s side, his fingers running gently up and down his back, lips tentatively finding the soft skin of Harry’s neck, the tip of his ear lobe. Harry sighed, light with contentment. He leant in closer, feeling the tension mounting between them, his heart speeding up slightly, his breaths becoming deeper. “I want you,” Draco murmured against his skin. “Salazar it’s been too long.”

   Anticipation rippled through Harry’s body, and he drew slightly back. He didn’t say anything, just took Draco’s hand, his silver eyes blazing in the soft light of the hotel room as Harry held them unwaveringly. He wet his lips, walking backwards into the bedroom, feeling like they were on the edge of the world with the windows looming protectively beside them.

   “I had an idea,” he said nervously as they stopped in between the glass wall and the bed.

   Draco placed his tumbler on the bedside cabinet and traced his fingers softly from Harry’s shoulders down to his elbows and up again. “Yes?” he asked, his voice husky.

   Harry was very much in two minds about what he wanted to say, but he’d hit the mark with the flowers and the hotel – hell – even his decision with the tailcoat arrHHrobes had sort of panned out. But he was still unsure.

   “You can say no,” he said, awkwardly putting his own gin and tonic on the chest of drawers.

   Draco smiled and kissed him lazily. “Can’t say no if I don’t know what it is,” he pointed out.

   _Fuck it,_ Harry thought. What was the worst that could happen?

   “I want to show you something,” he said shakily, Draco still distracting him with loving kisses and roaming hands. “Thought maybe I could prove something.”

   “Prove what?” mumbled Draco from the vicinity of his collar bone.

   “That I trust you.”

   This caught Draco’s attention. He pulled away from Harry’s neck, and looked up at him with a guarded expression. “You trust me,” he said. It wasn’t a question exactly.

   “I think,” said Harry carefully. “That we got in this mess, because there have been some issues hanging around us. And I want to prove to you that I’m not holding back, that I’m not afraid. I _was_ afraid, until about an hour ago. I thought you were going to break me beyond repair.”

   Draco swallowed, and made to separate himself from the embrace. But Harry glanced his hands up his chest, around the back of his neck, slipping his fingers through that soft hair that made him weak at the knees, and Draco stilled, looking up at him from a bowed head with reproachful eyes.

“I was afraid of living my life without you,” he carried on, hearing the quiver in his voice, his fingers rubbing minute circular patterns through Draco’s hair. “I want to show you _how much_ I will be with you, I want to give you everything Draco, everything I have. I want to show you I can throw myself at your feet when I am most vulnerable, and have _no doubt_ that you will save me again.”

   “Harry,” Draco replied softly, and he could see the fear on his face. This is why Harry knew something like this had to happen. Because Draco _did not_ believe he had faith in him, he thought himself unworthy and that threatened to break Harry’s heart all over again.

   “I trust you, I _trust you,”_ he told him softly.

   “How can you?” Draco replied, his hands balling into fists, Harry’s shirt bunched in between his fingers.

   “Because your virtues out way your failings,” he told him firmly. “Because if you had anything left to prove to me I wouldn’t have let you into my bed. Or my heart.”

   Draco bit his lip and looked down at their shoes, taking a long, slow breath in. “What do you propose?” he asked in little more than a whisper.

   “Make love to me,” said Harry, before he could lose his nerve. “I trust you with heart, body _and_ soul. I want to do whatever you want, _be_ whatever you want. I want to prove to you how safe I feel with you, I want you to be in control, I want to satisfy you as _intimately_ as you want, as _much_ as you want.” Draco had gone quite still, his vision lingering somewhere around Harry’s chest, eyes wide and apprehensive. But Harry pulled his fingers through his hair, along his jaw, cradling his face and tipping his gaze back up to meet him.

   “If you’re not ready for it,” he said. “I will take you, _hard_. I will poor all my desire and love into you and make you breathless for more. But if not tonight, I hope there will come a day when you feel you can take me; that you can ring me out and make me scream your name because there will never be anyone else who can love me like you do, that there will never be anyone else who I will surrender too, freely, and trust my body with like I do you.”

   Draco gulped, visibly, trembling under Harry’s gaze and touch, and suddenly Harry knew he had pushed him too far. He was being selfish, grasping for assurance that the past few months would never happen again. He should have waited, this wasn’t fair – Draco had been wrung out this evening, and here Harry was begging him to sex him when he probably just needed familiarity, for Harry to make love to him like they always did, he needed safety, security-

   “I’ll do it,” Draco’s voice rasped.

   Harry blinked. “No,” he said, backtracking, pulling him in and kissing him earnestly. “No you don’t have to, not tonight, you don’t-”

   Draco grabbed his hair and gripped tight, forcing Harry to look at him, his eyes ablaze. He looked shaken, scared, but he also looked determined. “I’m not losing you again,” he said, his voice low. “I won’t. I want you. You’re,” he faltered, and Harry could see the pulse flickering in his neck. “You’re mine Harry Potter. You’re mine and I want to claim you.”

   Harry, suddenly, felt nervous for a whole different reason. “You already have me,” he said, but Draco was looking at him with intensity.

   “What’s the matter?” he breathed, leaning in to Harry’s neck, whispering in his ear. “Sacred Potter?”

   Something akin to an inferno lit up through Harry’s body as he tried to jerk back and look Malfoy in the eye, but he grabbed Harry and yanked him back into a kiss that robbed him of his breath let alone his sight and sound. “You,” Harry gasped, as soon as he could scramble for air. “Wish.”

   Draco pushed them against the chest of drawers, and Harry heard the ice in his discarded drink rattle against the glass. Draco’s breathing was quick and deep, and soon he had to draw back, resting his forehead on Harry’s as he searched for his composure. “I want this,” he said shakily. “Do you still want this? Will you give yourself to me?”

Something coiled in Harry’s gut that he honestly wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. He was mildly terrified, mostly turned on to within an inch of his life. “I’m yours,” he said, running his fingers over skin and hair and clothes. “I trust you.”

   Draco took a deep, steadying breath in, eyes closed, hands holding on tightly to Harry’s hair and shirt. “Okay,” he said, breathing out again. He opened his eyes, bright with intensity, and Harry saw there was still fear there, as well as determination. “Okay.” He gave a small smile, and rubbed his thumb along Harry’s lower lip. “Fuck, I’m not sure what I’m doing,” he laughed.

   Harry laughed with him, feeling his nerves ease just a tiny bit. “Whatever you want,” he assured him, feeling warm and prickly all over his skin. “Whatever makes you feel at ease.”

   Draco nodded, contemplating. “I might put some music on?” he suggested. But Harry remained mute, going against a lot of his base instincts. He had promised submission, and he was going to stick with it, for Draco.

   The blond Slytherin laughed again, a little self-conscious. “Right,” he said, stepping back from Harry and the chest of drawers. “I’m putting some music on.”

   Harry watched as he disappeared back out into the living room, then exhaled quickly, rubbing his eyes under his glasses and shaking just a little where a stood. This was fine, this was _good!_ This was exactly what he wanted. But still, it was brand new, and his nerves were rattled; he was promising his obedience to another human being, so they could do whatever they wanted with him.

   In the fraction of a second it had taken for these thoughts to filter through, he forced himself to relax again. This wasn’t just _anybody,_ this was Draco. And he was doing this to prove that he felt safe, that he trusted him wholly and completely. What was the point if that wasn’t true?

   Draco came back into the room, holding his iPod that Harry had bought him for his birthday, unwinding the headphones, pulling them out of the socket and glancing cautiously at Harry. He hadn’t been sure about buying him the magically modified music player, Draco didn’t seem massively keen on Muggle music after all. But having been introduced to the basic concept, and shown where and how he could listen to and upload new music, Draco had become obsessed, insatiable. His music collection had probably surpassed Harry’s own in the few months he’d been able to work on it.

   Draco placed his player in the docking station that was common in every room of their suite. Their magical presence was weak, so it didn’t interfere with the electrics and Draco was able to get the music playing without any trouble.

   An electric guitar bass, funky and sultry, began to drift over the room. Not so loud it would disturb the neighbours (even without Harry’s silencing charms), but loud enough to seep through Harry’s skin and soak him with reassurance. “Playlist?” he asked as the drums kicked in, knowing how Draco liked to clump his music together in emotive spurts.

   “Yeah,” he said shyly, picking up his G’n’T for a sip and giving Harry half a smile. “They’re songs that remind me of fucking you. I haven’t had a chance to listen to them in quite a while.”

   Harry felt like his bones had gone to jelly. Well, he wanted Draco in charge, he was doing a pretty stand up job of it so far.

   “We should probably have a safe word,” he said, trying to be sensible as he thought back to his one or two other experiences like this.

   “Safe word?” Draco repeated, taking another mouthful of his gin and tonic. He rested the edge of the glass of his bottom lip and Harry almost groaned audibly at what that made his insides do.

   He nodded. “In case one of us feels out of our depth, we can say it, and the other knows to snap out of whatever is happening. It’s part of the trust thing.”

   Draco eyed him, something almost feral in his gaze. “You’ve done this before,” he said, his pitch hitting something very low in Harry indeed.

   “Once or twice,” Harry admitted. It had been fun, but it had been with strangers. What he and Draco were proposing made those memories pale in comparison.

   Draco was looking at him thoughtfully, and he darted his tongue out to wet his lips before taking another sip. “How about _‘Violets’?”_ he asked.

   Harry hadn’t been entirely sure about covering the suite in flowers – Draco had teased him mercilessly about that last time after all. But in that moment as was very glad that he had. He thought maybe Draco understood exactly what he’d been trying to convey by picking the other flower from that irksome rhyme he’d managed to turn into their romantic anthem. “Violets,” he repeated with a little nod.

   Not sure what else to do, he grabbed his own drink back from the drawers and took a gulp, his heart racing, trying not to let his mind run away with him. A part of him wanted to flip this, he wanted his dominance back, but instead he forced himself to calm and turn to Draco, who had perched on the edge of the enormous king-sized bed.

   It was high, so Draco’s toes just rested on the carpet, and he leaned forward, elbows on knees. He swivelled his arm so his right hand, the one nearest to Harry, was reaching out whilst still leaning on his elbow, and his fingers curled a couple of times in quick succession. “Come here,” he said softly.

   Lust outweighed Harry’s apprehension. He trusted Draco, he was giving himself to him. So he encouraged his heart to slow, took another swig of gin and moved carefully over to stand in front of him.

   His knees were touching Draco’s, and gently, the other man took his glass from his hand, leaving him standing unsure in front of him. He remained still, eyes on Draco as he slowly ran his hands up his shirt sleeves, fingers trailing cautiously through the folds of his cravat.

   “Astoria and I,” he began, but Harry cut him off sharply.

   “I don’t want to know,” he insisted. She seemed like a nice girl, but he wanted absolutely zero imagery of her and Draco’s time together.

   “Nothing happened,” Draco insisted calmly but firmly, undoing Harry’s tie. “Nothing. I never cheated on you, I swear on my mother’s life.”

   Harry looked down at him, their eyes locking as the silk of the tie unravelled and slipped to the carpet. “Good,” said Harry honestly, and Draco inhaled and smiled.

   “Guess that was another sign I was doing something really fucking stupid,” he said, cocking an eyebrow.

   “You said it,” Harry quipped, feeling more at ease with Draco’s confession and insistence on making jokes.

   He pretended to scowl, hands moving to Harry’s top button. “Shut up,” he said petulantly. “I’m trying to seduce you.”

   Harry bit his grinning lip and couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter closed. He was in safe hands.

   Methodically, Draco loosened the buttons, one by one, fingertips skimming over the skin on Harry’s chest that was sensitive with goose bumps. He pulled the shirt up from his trousers, releasing the last of the buttons and slipping his hands over Harry’s shoulders to push the garment down to the floor.

   His mouth found his way to Harry’s abdominals, kissing up his rib cage as Harry tried to keep his breathing steady, forcing his hands to stay down. He was Draco’s, he wouldn’t do anything until he said so, not tonight.

   Draco’s lips found Harry’s nipple on the left, and Harry wasn’t prepared for the little graze of teeth that made him jump. He could feel Draco smile against his skin as he continued to kiss and suck, pearling the nipple under his tongue into a hard nub. Hands caressed along his hips, up his sides and around his back as Draco switched and focused on the other side of Harry’s chest, giving the same attention to that nipple too. He blew on the wet, sensitive skin as it rose, making Harry shiver.

   “Harry?” Draco whispered, causing him to open his eyes as he leant up and kissed his mouth. “I want you to touch me,” he said breathlessly.

   Harry didn’t need telling twice. He entwined his fingers through Draco’s hair, pulling them closer together with an appreciative moan. Draco’s hands however were busy with his belt, fumbling with the clasp before whipping it free from his hips and slinging it to the carpet with abandon. Next came the trouser button and zip, and Harry helped by kicking off his boots, meaning as his trousers were pushed to his ankles they could also be kicked off with little regard, leaving Harry in just his boxers and…

   “Fuck,” muttered Draco, suddenly seizing Harry by the waist and twisting him onto the bed in a fluid motion that almost cost Harry his glasses. “How do you manage to make those bloody socks sexy?”

   The Quidditch socks, Harry remembered a little disgruntled. The ones he assured himself were fine to wear because no one else would see them.

   “Oh shut up,” he grinned as Draco loomed over his body, straddling him with intent. “You were the one who bought them for me.”

   “Yup,” Draco agreed, coming back in for a thoroughly decent snog. “So I guess it’s all my fault.”

   Harry had his arms up and hands resting on Draco’s shoulders. He managed to toe off the offending socks, but he couldn’t help but feel Draco was secretly pleased he’d been caught out wearing them.

   Now all that remained were the boxers. His mostly naked body ground against Draco’s slightly coarse trousers, his silky waistcoat, the soft cotton of his shirt, revelling in the sensation of skin on material. He keened as Draco pulled his lower lip between his teeth, then began the slow and torturous process of working his mouth and tongue and lips through the centre of his chest, past his navel, trailing the soft hair that paved the way down to his pulsing groin.

   Harry tangled his fingers in his own hair as he felt cool air on his most sensitive parts, feeling the elastic lift from his hips and be dragged down his legs, leaving him totally naked, vulnerable to Draco’s scrutiny. Kisses fluttered up his inner thigh and Harry couldn’t help but gasp; he’d done exactly this for Draco their first night together. Except, he’d been conscious of not letting Draco feel like he was being teased, and had got down to business pretty quickly. It seemed Draco had other plans…

   His fingertips were lightly trailing along Harry’s skin, soft touches across his abdomen and his hips and Draco worked his mouth along Harry’s right thigh. Lips and tongue massaged their way torturously closer to his crotch, making Harry shudder, his breathing hitching.

   “Draco,” he shuddered, gripping at his wiry hair, eyes screwed up behind his glasses. He forced himself to calm a little. He knew what was coming, and the fact it was going to take a little longer was actually sweeter, because it forcibly reminded Harry that in fact, they had all the time in the world now. They were back together, and if the evening so far was indication, they were better than ever.

   Harry pushed into Draco’s touch, realising for the first time ever, he was allowing himself to get lost in the fantasy of their future. A future that included loved ones, of facing the world with bare-faced honesty, of becoming a part of a couple, a unit, together-

   All coherent thought dropped from his brain as Draco’s fingertips skirted up the length of his cock. “Ungh!” he cried out, jerking his body forward involuntary before flopping back into the mattress. Draco’s breath was heavy against his thigh, his cheek resting there as he ran his hand gently up and down Harry’s length with maddening restraint.

   “I forgot,” he murmured, gripping with more intensity and making Harry grit his teeth in pleasure. “The amazing noises you make.”

   “Nuh-uh,” Harry gasped, biting his lip against the grin forming. “You’re the noisy one.”

   “Really?” Draco asked, and Harry could practically feel the eyebrow lifting as he removed his hand for a horrible moment, before replacing it with his hot, wanting mouth.

   “Fuck!” Harry cried, arching his back, abandoning his own hair in favour of running his hands through Draco’s, encouraging him as he bobbed up and down, taking him deep into his throat.

   Harry had thought that morning in his flat, when he’d been trying in vain to read the Quidditch pages, was going to be his last memory of he and Draco in bed. Whatever else happened after this, knowing that was not in fact going to be his last blow job from his infuriating, but adorable boyfriend, it made him push back into Draco’s mouth.

   If it made him gag at all, he recovered without faltering, continuing with a rhythm that Harry could feel was shredding him to pieces.

   But just as he could feel his climax building, Draco slid off, causing him to grimace and vault up. “Wha-”

   Draco was scrambling at his top button. “No, I want,” he said, trembling. “Together – help me-”

   Harry didn’t need encouraging. He sat up all the way, and two pairs of hands fumbled with his shirt and his waistcoat, peeling off the clothing, leaving Draco’s chest mercifully naked and Harry forgot his own want, attacking those perfect abs and the scar that sliced him diagonally in two, kissing down it as the two of them struggled with the belt buckle. “So fucking happy I’ve got you back,” Harry mumbled into Draco’s mouth, making as short a job of his trousers as he had done to Harry.

   Draco pushed him back on the bed, only his boxers remaining, having already disposed of his of his shoes and socks with the skill of an escapologist. “You’re stuck with me, Potter,” he growled, grinding their hips together as he lavished him with kisses that left them both struggling for breath.

   “Okay,” said Harry, willing to admit defeat.

   “Did you pack-?”

   Harry didn’t need him to finish. He threw his left hand out towards the living room. _“Accio bag!”_ he gasped, not needing to bother with his wand, and the rucksack flew into his waiting grasp. “Front section,” he breathed, shoving it towards Draco, so glad he decided to crawl under his bed for those extra items.

   Draco ripped open the zip and took in the contents. “Well you were planning on quite an evening,” he teased.

   “Draco,” Harry growled, unsure if he was boneless or stiff as a board against the pillows. “If you don’t get back to my dick in the next five seconds-”

   Draco snorted, pulling a pump-action bottle from the bag and dropping the rest to the floor. “Such a baby,” he sighed, launching in for another snog as his hands got busy removing his last remaining article of clothing and popping the lid off the lube.

   _“My baby,”_ he rumbled into Harry’s ear as his slick hand wrapped back around his prick, working the gel along him lovingly.

   “Yours,” Harry agreed wholeheartedly, lifting his pelvis to encourage Draco’s touch. He massaged him a little longer, before moving to tend to his own cock, Harry unable to stop himself drinking in the delicious sight of his lover pleasuring himself, watching as his eyes fluttered closed at the sensation.

   Draco took the briefest of moments to wipe his hand off on the side of the bed, before crashing his weight back into Harry, slamming their bodies together and undulating his slippery cock against Harry’s, causing the most beautiful friction that Harry practically yelped at. He dug his fingers into the flesh of Draco’s hips, losing himself in the motion as they worked together, lips fighting for dominance with such force Harry was left dizzy and fighting for purchase. “Draco,” he whispered, over and over. “I think I’m going to-”

   “Wait!” Draco gasped. “Wait for me, wait, please!”

   And Harry did as he was told, taking a deep breath as Draco continued to grind into him, catching up, searching for the release Harry was holding onto.

   “Come on baby,” he whispered, hands pressing grooves down Draco’s back. “Come for me.”

   A tortured nod signalled he was close, and Harry let himself pick up the pace again, feeling the pressure build explosively in him, until there was nothing but gnashing teeth, sheets gripped in iron fists, anguished cries, and then boneless bodies slumping together, bellies warm and slick with the result of the passion.  

   Harry shuddered, his breathing slowing down as he hugged Draco into his side. As the aftershocks stopped raking through his body, he cleaned their mess with a flick of his wand before discarding it again, leaving them dry and snug as he slowly ran his fingers in circles on Draco’s back.

   He was sure the novelty would wear off eventually, but having convinced himself this would never happened again, he felt like he was currently floating on a cloud of euphoria, two feet above the rumpled bed sheets. “You’re perfect,” he murmured into blond hair.

   Draco chuckled and shook his head into Harry’s neck, but didn’t say anything to contradict him. Instead, he began languorous kisses along Harry’s collar bone, trailing up his neck to find his mouth. “You tired?” he asked.

   His tone made Harry pull away and look him in the eye. “No,” he said, excitement flurrying through him.  

   “Well,” said Draco hesitantly but with a hint of determination. “You packed such a nice bag, it would be a shame not to put some of it to use…”

   One wrong look from Harry would shatter this, he knew. So he didn’t say anything to begin with, he just shifted a little so he was more under Draco, back flush with the bed and the duvet they were still on top of, and looked up at him. “I’m yours,” he said softly. “I’ll do anything you want.”

   That made Draco’s eyes dilate, breath hitching. He leant over the side of the bed to rummage in the bag’s front compartment, pulling out Harry’s fluffy handcuffs that had started out as a joke present from Seamus Finnigan, but had actually been put to good use more times than his Irish friend would _ever_ care to find out.

   Again, without a word, Harry just kept Draco’s eye contact, shuffled his shoulders down a little against the pillows, and raised his hands above his head, crossed at the wrists.

   If Draco had ever played around with cuffs before, it hadn’t been with Harry. But at seeing his willingness he seemed eager to keep going, transfiguring the regular headboard of the bed into wooden slats, giving him something to loop the short chain around as he clipped the ends around Harry’s waiting wrists.

   “Violets?” he checked.

   Harry felt a spike of panic as the restraints went on, but at Draco reaffirming the safe word he felt the calm settle on his chest before he’d even really had a chance to register it. “Violets,” he said with a little nod. He knew what they were doing, he was fine.

   There was a welcome basket of home comforts courtesy of the hotel on the cabinet nearest to them, wrapped in cellophane and until now complete ignored by both men. But Draco flicked his wand again and the packaging came undone, letting him pluck something nestled between the bath robes and slippers. A grey and black, soft looking, sleep mask. “How about now?”

   Harry was intrigued to find himself not only unfazed at the idea of being blindfolded, it actually made his heart skip a little beat. He allowed half a smile to creep up on his lips, and closed his eyes voluntarily. “Surprise me,” he said, delighted at how much he meant that.

   The next thing he felt was his glasses slowly, but gently, being slid off his face. Then Draco hooked the eye mask over his head and positioned it with care so it sat comfortably. “Okay?” he asked, and Harry nodded.

   A swift kiss landed on his lips. There was a pause, and then it came back again, more invasive, parting his mouth with a sturdy tongue. Even this had Harry’s heart racing with the added sensation of limited movement and sight. He really was Draco’s right then, having almost no control over his own self.

   “Give me a sec,” Draco breathed, and then his weight lifted from the bed, leaving Harry trussed up and naked. He indulged in another one of those long breaths, every inch of him desperate for an indication of Draco’s return. He was safe. He was Draco’s. It was okay.

   It wasn’t long before the bed shifted again, signalling Draco was back, perched on the edge of the bed. Harry bit his lip as he felt Draco’s hand cup his jaw. “Okay?” he asked again.

   Harry nodded. “Perfect.” The hand was gently removed, leaving Harry tingling in anticipation, until another soft touch graced the side of his face. A subtle scent also tickled the back of his throat, and he realised what was caressing slowly down his skin were flower petals.

   Draco must have fetched some of the violets from the living room, and Harry keened at the thought. He couldn’t believe he’d ever been nervous about organising them, they were his and Draco’s signature, what had brought them together. Two different species, that belonged in the same love story.

   Harry relaxed as Draco dragged the petals down his neck and up his right arm. He could feel from the way the bed was shifting his body was hovering above him, his free hand resting the other side of Harry’s torso. Harry imagined how he was watching him, studying him, and it made the stroke of the flowers even sweeter against his skin.

   When he’d played around with those couple of guys before, he’d thought it had been all about their dominance. Now he understood, it was all about his submission. Maybe this would be as beneficial to him as it would to Draco; there was something remarkable about letting go, relinquishing control.

   The violets skimmed over the sensitive areas of his palms and fingertips, trailing back down his left arm and along his collar bone. “You have such a beautiful body,” Draco murmured, following the flowers along Harry’s sternum with chaste kisses.

   “It’s yours,” Harry breathed, already feeling his arousal re-building from their previous excursion.

   The flowers disappeared but the kisses worked their way back up, along collar and neck and jaw. “No,” said Draco reaching his mouth. “I’m just borrowing it. I’m its custodian.” The words vibrated through Harry’s mouth as he succumbed to the kiss, wanting to feel Draco’s skin against his own and raising his chest in search of more contact.

   But Draco drew back, breathless and laughing softly. “Not done with you yet,” he teased. Harry gave him a little whimper of protest like a puppy, and he laughed again. He didn’t leave the bed though, and Harry heard a subtle chink from the cabinet to his left.

   He gasped suddenly as freezing droplets landed on his chest between his pectorals, the cold and wetness a sharp contrast to how soft and warm he’d been feeling. Draco’s tongue came next, licking up the icy gin. “I thought you looked thirsty,” he taunted. Then the coldness touched his lips, and Harry realised he was running one of the ice cubes along the edge of his mouth.

   “See,” purred Draco as Harry tilted his chin to lick and suck at the cube as well as Draco’s wet fingertips. “Thirsty.” He replaced the ice with his mouth, hot on Harry’s cool skin, hand drifting down to Harry’s right nipple, sliding the melting ice over his hard nub and making it numb.

   Harry shuddered against Draco, letting the coldness wash over him as Draco bruised his lips with his own. Just when the ice was starting to feel painful, it was dragged across to give the other side the same treatment. He broke off the kiss and moved to suck of the cold nipple instead, teasing it once more with his teeth.

Harry was definitely hard again, his cock feeling hot in contrast to the iciness trailing over his chest. This hadn’t escaped Draco’s attention apparently, as he began easing his hand and mouth downwards, skimming Harry’s belly button, trailing wetness through the soft line of hair.

   Harry screwed up his eyes against the soft material of the mask, panting heavily as the ice found its way along his length, making him grit his teeth as he fought between pleasure and pain. Despite the fluffy covering, the handcuffs still bit at his wrists as he jerked and pulled against the restraints, making them jangle against the modified bed posts, but he didn’t want Draco to stop. He didn’t want any of it to stop. He felt dizzy, like he was outside of his own body, floating high above and watching.

   _“Please,”_ he found himself whispering, not sure what he was asking for. _“Please Draco.”_

   The ice had practically melted, and Harry felt the last sliver disappear between his and Draco’s skin. With that, Draco lifted his touch away, and Harry bit his lip in anticipation, feeling the weight of the bed shift as Draco crawled back up to nuzzle his face into the side of Harry’s neck.

   “I want to play with my favourite toy,” he said tentatively. “Would you like that?”

   Harry knew exactly what he was talking about, but they’d never used it on him. “For me?” he clarified, and little breathless, and Draco nodded into his hair. He turned his head slightly, leaning into Draco. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice catching a little.

   He felt Draco move again, reaching back for the rucksack. Harry waited a few moments, shivering in anticipation, skin chilled from the ice but also hot with desire.

   The next thing he felt was Draco’s slick fingers slide gently between his legs and he gasped as he stroked him tenderly before carefully slipping a finger inside him. It had been a very long time since Harry had bottomed, and he’d forgotten how mind-blowingly good the sensation was of feeling someone enter him. Draco had never done this with him before, it was always the other way round, and for the first time since they’d started he wanted to take the mask off, and the cuffs. He wanted this to be something they shared together.

Draco eased another finger in and he moaned, pushing against him as he moved slowly back and forth, preparing Harry, scissoring the fingers more and more. “You ready?” he asked.

   Harry nodded, playing along with the game a while longer. Draco’s favourite toy was the gayest little vibrator Harry had ever seen, and he constantly delighted in laughing and teasing him about it. It was pink and sparkly – _sparkly!_ Harry liked to pretend he was offended he had to use it when Draco was in the mood. But as the subtle tell-tale buzz sounded, and Draco pushed it gently against and inside him, he thought maybe he’d have to take some of his words back.

   He arched his back and neck into the mattress and pillows, gasping in pleasure. He felt full, but not too full, and the vibrations were driving him crazy within seconds as Draco rubbed the toy back and forth. Harry forced himself to relax though, he didn’t want to come too soon, but Draco didn’t exactly help with that when he wrapped his other hand around his cock, giving it a quick squeeze.

   “Want you,” Harry uttered. “Want to touch, want to see.”

   Immediately, the vibrator slipped out of him and Harry heard it bounce on the floor as the buzzing stopped. Draco scrambled up the bed, yanking off the eye mask as he kissed Harry’s lips and ran his fingers through his hair. “Glasses?” he asked, popping open the cuffs, but Harry shook his head, grabbing forwards as soon as he was free, pulling Draco flush against his body, wrapping them together, becoming one.

   “No just please, I want – want you.”

   There was another splash of lube, and then, for the first time, Draco eased himself into Harry, hot and tight and perfect. Harry cried out as they tumbled back down to the bed, hands digging into Draco’s shoulders as they began to rock back and forth. “Harry,” he groaned.

   “So good,” Harry whispered between kisses. “Yes, like that – _ah!”_ He wasn’t going to last long, but it didn’t seem Draco would either, so he didn’t try and hold onto his building orgasm. “Going to-” he gasped.

   “Me too,” Draco cried, impossibly picking up the pace even more, shattering Harry into a million pieces, their screams mingling as the world fell apart around them.

   Slowly, Harry blinked his way back to reality, Draco collapsed on his chest, still inside him, their wetness seemingly everywhere. “You okay?” he whispered shakily.

   “Fucking fantastic,” Draco mumbled into his chest, making Harry laugh.

   After a while, he pulled tentatively out of him, and Harry rolled over to get his wand and clean them up. The floor was littered with all the various items they’d been playing with, but the only thing left on the bed was them, so Harry yanked up the sheets so they could get under the covers. “Come here,” he said warmly, and Draco snuggled up to his side as they enveloped themselves in the soft, fat duvet.

   They were a tangle of limbs and slowly rising and falling chests. “How do you feel?” Harry asked after a while, stroking the silky blond hair he wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d missed keenly.

   “Amazing,” Draco said, but with a hint of caution as he looked up at Harry through coppery lashes. “Was I – was it okay?”

   Harry blinked at him. “Draco,” he said sternly. “That’s probably the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. You’re incredible.”

   Bashfulness swept over Draco’s face and he buried it again in Harry’s shoulder, making him grin. “I got a bit caught up in the moment,” he admitted from the crook of Harry’s neck.

   “Well, good,” Harry told him. “That’s sort of the point. And now I know what you’re capable of, don’t think you’re going to get away with me doing all the hard work anymore.” He poked him in the ribs, making them both laugh as Draco rose his head to look at him again. “I mean it,” Harry said, a little more serious. “I want you making love to me. I’m yours, just as much as you’re mine.”

   Draco stroked his hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “Equal partners,” he agreed.

   It wasn’t long before tiredness overcame them, and they nestled down into the multiple pillows hotels always thought it was necessary to give people, looking out over the whole of London as they dozed off.

   “Harry,” said Draco in such a small voice, he almost missed it.

   “Hmm?”

   There was a pause, filled with only soft breaths and fingers trailing along skin. And then…“I love you.”

   Harry squeezed his eyes even tighter together, emotion welling up in him. “I love you too,” he said thickly.

 

xxx

 

   Harry awoke suddenly to a soft knock at their door. Wintery sunshine was streaming through the floor to ceiling windows, illuminating the city as it too roused from its Sunday morning slumber. The knock came quietly again, and Harry slipped out of bed, leaving Draco looking untroubled and oblivious.

   He pulled on one of the complementary dressing gowns, marvelling at how soft and fluffy it was as he padded over and opened up the door to their hotel room.

   “Mr Potter?” A petrified looking bell boy stood on the other side, trembling in the corridor with wide eyes and a stack of mail clutched between his hands.

   “Yes?” he replied, raising an eyebrow.

   “These, uh-” He held out the letters, and Harry eyed them up dubiously. One or two were definitely quivering as much as the hands that were clamped around them. “They came to the front desk, by uh, I mean…They were dropped off by birds.”

   Harry raised both his eyebrows at that. “Owls?” he guessed.

   The bell boy gulped. “One looked like an eagle,” he stammered.

   Harry sighed. He should have known it was too much to ask that they be left alone. If he had learnt one thing from his acceptance into Hogwarts, it was that letters would always find you, no matter how hard you tried to hide. At least it was just a bit of mail, and not an actual Lucius Malfoy or anything.

   He held up a finger to the teenager and darted back into the room for his wallet. “I’m very sorry about that,” he apologised, giving him a hefty tip and removing the envelopes from his hands. “It shouldn’t happen again,” he said, hoping that was true.

   He kicked the door closed and made his way back into the bedroom where Draco had woken, presumably at the sound of the voices in the hall. “Morning,” said Harry affectionately, dropping the post on the cabinet and slipping back into bed.

   Draco smiled sleepily, curling into Harry’s side and rubbing his face against the robe. “Cuddly bear,” he muttered, clearly still half asleep.

   Harry laughed and ruffled his hair, making a mental note to tease Draco about being soft on him once he was properly awake. Sadly he didn’t have to wait long for that though. “We have mail,” he said neutrally.

   Draco pulled away and looked at Harry, then at the stack of letters he had brought in. “Oh,” was all he said.

   Harry though had already steeled himself, so he hopped back out of bed briefly to fetch the other dressing gown for Draco to put on, then collected the letters as he got back under the covers. “I think we should just face the music,” he said, fishing out the bright red howler and reinforcing the sound proofing on the room with his wand. “It’ll only get worse if you wait.”

   Because of course it was addressed to Draco, and Harry would have bet his life savings on who it was from.

   Draco swallowed and took the letter in his own hands, meaning Harry could put his right arm around his shoulders and squeeze, bracing him for what was about to hit. Draco slid his finger under the sealed flap, and tugged it free, releasing the magic.

   _“DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY!”_ his father roared, making both of them jump no matter how much they had been prepared. _“YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THIS FAMILY, YOU HAVE BROUGHT SHAME DOWN UPON US THE LIKES WE HAVE NEVER KNOWN!”_

   Harry thought about the fact that Lucius had thrown his lot in with the most heinous wizard who’d ever lived, and doubted that very much, but of course that didn’t stop the voice from blaring.

   _“HOW COULD YOU! WITH *HIM*! IN FRONT OF ALL THOSE PEOPLE! YOUR FACE IS PLASTERED ALL OVER THE PAPERS LIKE SOME COMMON WHORE!   YOU ARE *NO* LONGER A PART OF THIS FAMILY, DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU WILL NEVER AGAIN SET FOOT IN THIS HOUSE, YOU WILL BE STRUCK FROM THE WILL AND YOUR NAME ERASED FROM OUR HISTORY!”_

   Harry blanched, but Draco was watching the talking envelope with a steady gaze, no emotion flickering over his face.

   The voice coming from the howler dropped dangerously low, and somehow, that was worse than the bellowing. _“You will have nothing, I will make sure of that; no job, no money, no allies. You have made this bed, with the boy that took everything from us. So be it, you shall reap what you sew, and it will be a cold day in hell before I ever see or speak to you again. I no longer have a son.”_

   The letter exploded into flames, and the ashes drifted gently down to the duvet, where Harry quickly vanished them before they could do any damage. He heart was in his throat, he was almost too scared to look at Draco, not sure if he should wait or speak first.

   Draco though, blew out a deep breath and rubbed his jaw. “Well,” he said with something resembling cheerfulness. “That could have been worse.”

   Harry raised his eyebrows. “Really?” he asked, unable to stop himself. “How?”

   Draco laughed, thankfully, and let Harry pull him into a hug. “I wasn’t really expecting him to do any less,” he admitted, and Harry felt a knot of selfishness twist in his gut. All that time he’d been pressuring Draco to come out of the closet, this is what he knew he’d be facing.

   “I’m so sorry,” he said.

   But Draco just shrugged and gave a shaky sigh. “He can’t get me fired,” he said stubbornly. “No matter what he thinks, he just doesn’t have that kind of power anymore.”

   “And I’ll support you,” Harry added hastily. “If you need, in any way I can.”

   Draco stoked his arm. “I know,” he said, more subdued, Harry’s chin resting on his head. “But I don’t need your money, I pay for my flat, and like I said I’m sure I still have a job.”

   Harry was stroking him back; his hair, his face, his collar and his neck. “I mean,” he said softly, picking his words. “I’m just…here. Right next to you, and I always will be. Whatever you’ll have to face, I’ll be by your side. And if anyone has a problem with this, us, they’ll have to deal with The Boy Who Lived first.”

   Harry felt a smile on his chest, even through his dressing gown. “Careful Potter,” Draco said, a hint of strain in his voice but also humour too. “You’re starting to sound like a celebrity, throwing your weight around like that.”

   “I’ll go full diva if anyone dares to try and fuck with the man I love,” he growled, only half joking.   He wouldn’t use his name for hardly anything, but he would if it would spare Draco unnecessary pain. He meant that with everything he possibly had to give.

   Draco raised his head and kissed him delicately, showing his appreciation as best he could. Harry imagined he must be so torn up inside, and he made a promise to himself to make sure that his sacrifice would be worth it, that what they had would be worth it.

   After a time Draco sighed. “Shall we see what the rest have to say?” he asked, resigned to the task.

   Luckily, Lucius’ seemed to be the only howler. There were several more letters in various shapes and sizes, addressed to Harry as well as Draco. He decided to go next, attacking a couple which he was unsurprised to discover were from reporters begging for interviews. “Urgh,” Harry said in disgust. “Vultures.” There were probably more of those in the pile, so he searched for any familiar handwriting.

   “I think,” said Draco, beating him to it. “That this one’s from my mother?”

   Harry looked down at the black envelope and elegant silver writing. “You don’t have to,” Harry began, but Draco shook his head and tore it open, shaking the single sheet of parchment out and unfolding it carefully in his hands.

   There were only a few lines, and Harry averted his eyes to give Draco some privacy. But it wasn’t long before Draco was holding it in front of him, silently asking him to read it.

   _“My darling Draco,”_ it began, and Harry couldn’t help the shimmer of hope in his chest.

_“All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. I wish you had told me sooner. If this is what your heart truly desires, then I will support you._

_Your father is mistaken. We owe Harry Potter a great deal indeed, and I will state here and now I find him worthy of your affections._

_Do not worry yourself too much about your father. I know what his letter contained and I will do my best to speak reason to him._

_There is no power in this world that could make you no longer my son._

_Love,_

_Mother.”_

   As Harry finished reading he realised Draco was doing his best not to cry, but Harry couldn’t be bothered with any of that. “Come here,” he instructed, turning and pulling Draco to nestle his head into his neck, fingers massaging his back and his scalp, kissing his forehead as Draco shook. Typical it was kindness, not cruelty, that had broken him.

   After a time Draco calmed, and Harry suggested he took the burden of continuing to open their mail, despite who it was addressed to. More reporters from all over the world were offering frightening amounts of money for exclusive interviews, but Harry just dropped each of these on the floor with distain. But then there was one from Astoria Greengrass that simply stated: _“Thank you for not breaking either of our hearts.”_

   Draco sniffed and wiped his eyes as Harry showed him that one. “Guess you might have been right,” he said with a watery laugh.

   Harry had saved the few with familiar handwriting until last, and opened letters from Luna, Neville and Ginny all expressing their surprise but also their congratulations. George Weasley had a few delighted words to say about the senior Malfoy’s loss of face, but even then said he’d get his mum on making Draco a Christmas jumper while she still had time.

   “One of those hideous, scratchy creations you wear around the house?” Draco cried in mock horror, but Harry could tell he was secretly quite flattered.

   And then, Harry opened the letter he’d purposefully saved for last.

   _“Dear Harry and Draco,”_ wrote Hermione, the only one to address them as a couple.

_“You are complete idiots. If you don’t think I worked out months ago what was going on, you both deserve to have your Ministry licences taken away. You could have avoided a lot of bother if you’d just been honest with us or at the very least yourselves, but I’m glad everything is finally out in the open._

_Ron is a bit shocked to say the least, but he’s actually coming around to the idea already, which surely proves to you that anything is possible._

_I hope that you’ve been able to sort out any grievances by the time this letter reaches you. Harry, I never want to see that depth of sadness on your face again if I can help it (so Draco, please hear my friendly but firm assurance that any more broken hearts will not be tolerated.) And Harry, you be nice to Draco too, he was very brave last night and I’m proud of him for what he did._

_Now, I shall be cooking dinner on Tuesday night, I expect to see you both at seven o’clock sharp with some extremely good apology wine._

_Warmest love and affection (and patience),_

_Hermione xxx”_

   Harry waited until Draco looked up. He was pretty sure he was reading it twice, maybe three times. “Bossy, isn’t she?” he said finally, and Harry laughed.

   “And right,” he sighed. “Nothing gets past her, I should have known.”

   Draco bit his lip. “She really wants us round for dinner?” he said, looking back at her writing. “And Weasley?”

   Harry imagined Ron might take a little persuading to let a Malfoy into his house, but if anyone could do it, it was Hermione Granger.

   “Yeah,” said Harry, scooping up the letters and piling them back on the cabinet. “We’re a package deal now. We do things together.”

They wriggled back down into the bed, arm in arm, chest to chest. “Together,” Draco repeated.

   Harry smiled, thinking of the implications of what that really meant. He was whole again, the world made sense once more – or didn’t, he mused, thinking seriously about who he was actually holding in his arms.

   But it made sense to them, and that’s all he cared about. No more lying, no more feeling ashamed. In fact the world was probably going to get substantially more complicated, but Harry didn’t care, because they were back where they belonged.

   “Together,” he promised.

  

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please review! To discover more of my writing, visit www.helenjuliet.com


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